Darknesses (19 page)

“And
have you seen much…combat?” That came from the older overcaptain to his left,
Gheranak, according to the calligraphed name placard before him. He sat beside
Heald and nearer the head of the table. His words were matter-of-fact, almost
as if he already knew.

Alucius
replied. “It is hard to compare, but I have been told that I am among those
with the most combat experience in the Northern Guard.”

The
face of the younger officer across the table expressed polite disbelief.

Heald
started to open his mouth, but stopped as Overcaptain Gheranak, who had asked
the combat question, gestured. “Overcaptain Shorak.” The words from the older
overcaptain were measured, level. “I read the report on Overcaptain Alucius
this morning. It is rather interesting. He was seriously wounded in a battle
against the Matrites and left for dead. Although he was captured, within little
more than two years he not only recovered from a head wound considered fatal,
but escaped. He brought back an entire company of troopers, defeating four
Matrite companies in the process. He has twice wiped out raider bands
outnumbering his forces by two to one. It is also interesting to note that he
has always led his men from the front rank.” The older overcaptain inclined his
head to Alucius. “I beg your pardon, Overcaptain Alucius, but it is often
difficult to state one’s own accomplishments without being considered
boastful.”

Alucius
nodded in return. “Thank you. I did not know that my life story had been sent
ahead of me.” He was as much surprised that the older overcaptain had been
telling the truth as he knew it as that the officer knew Alucius’s background.

“Ah…it
was not, but the Landarch has his own sources.”

Heald
concealed a frown, then glanced at Alucius, who smiled back, ruefully, getting
the slightest shrug in return.

The
younger overcaptain looked near ashen, far more than Alucius would have
expected. “I beg your pardon, Overcaptain.”

“You
need not be overly concerned…if you merely sought information,” Alucius said
with a smile.

The
young overcaptain paled further, than took refuge behind a goblet of the amber
wind.

“Shorak
here…” said the officer to the right of Alucius, “he still has a bit to learn
about the way other lands handle their forces. He’ll learn.”

“I
fear I know nothing of the structure of your Lancers,” Alucius admitted. “So
little that I couldn’t ask an intelligent question. Perhaps you could enlighten
me.”

“I’m
Feorak,” the officer said, grinning at Shorak. “You see, Shorak. That’s the way
you do it.” Then he looked at Alucius. “You’ve killed a lot of men in battle,
haven’t you?”

“Enough,”
Alucius admitted.

“There’s
an air about experience. Hard to miss when you look,” Feorak said, as much for
the benefit of Shorak as Alucius. “You asked about the Lancers. We have
twenty-five companies, and five are always on border duty. Five more are going
with you on Quinti. Regret I won’t be one of them. Now…structure. Officers all
come from families that can provide an education for their sons. Usually
younger sons of landowners, like Shorak and me, but could be merchants or
clerks. We get a year of intensive training at the Lancer Academy. The rankers
get three months. Companies look to be organized like yours, but twenty-four in
a squad, and five squads in a company. Overcaptain in charge of each company,
and a captain under him, with a senior squad leader and an assistant senior
squad leader, and then a squad leader for each squad, with a senior ranker for
each subsquad of twelve.”

Alucius
nodded. The organization alone told him much. “Are the nomads your biggest
problem, or is that something new?”

“We
haven’t had much problem with the nomads for almost a generation. They weren’t
even united until this Aellyan Edyss came along. There are all sorts of raiders
and clans hidden in the Spine of Corus, to the east of Aelta, and that’s where
most of the Lancer companies have been. There are still ten out there now.”

“So…after
we leave, there will only be five companies here in Dereka?”

Feorak
nodded. “Most Deforyans aren’t that worried about the nomads. They feel that
we’re protected by the spirits of the mountains. No one has ever invaded
Deforya, not even before the Cataclysm.”

“Spirits
of the mountains?”

“No
one has ever seen one, but we’ve found raiders, even nomads, dead on the slopes
and in the passes. Without even a mark on them.” Feorak shrugged. “No one can
explain it, but…”

Alucius
nodded. “If it works…” He took a bite of the meat he had served himself from
the platter. It was tender, covered with a plumapple glaze, and only lightly
seasoned, but not a kind of meat he had eaten before.

“It’s
plains antelope,” Shorak offered tentatively. “Do you like it?”

“It’s
very good,” Alucius replied.

“They
come from the southeast, below the high road before it enters the Northern
Pass. It’s hard to come by, but it’s always been the favored meat at banquets,
for generations back.”

“Even
before the land was Deforya? Or has it always been called Deforya?” asked
Alucius, keeping his voice indifferent.

“So
long as the histories run, it has been Deforya, land of prosperity and plenty,
protected by the very mountains themselves…”

“Are
the mountains why you’re not worried about Aellyan Edyss?” asked Alucius. “He
did rout the Praetorians and conquered Ongelya.”

“He
has not crossed the Barrier Range,” Shorak offered. “No one ever has. Not in
force.”

“Not
yet,” Feorak added with a laugh.

“We
passed vingt after vingt of orchards,” Alucius offered, taking a sip of the
amber wine, but only a sip.

“Our
orchards are known all across Corus…”

Alucius
listened, only occasionally asking a question.

Some
two glasses later, Feran, Alucius, and Heald found themselves in one of the
carriages headed back to their quarters. None of the three spoke on their
carriage ride, nor until they were crossing the courtyard toward the officers’
quarters, under the twin moons of Selena and Asterta, neither new nor full.

“How
do you feel about Dereka? What does the place feel like to you?” Alucius asked,
almost idly, looking first at Heald, then at Feran.

“Old,”
said Feran. “It’s like they’re living in a time generations back.” He laughed
softly. “They seem happy with it.”

“Happy?
You think so?” Happy or resigned?

“Happy
as any folk,” Heald said. “I feel like people are watching us all the time.
They knew all about all of us.” He added in a low voice. “Gheranak even knew
about the crystal spear-thrower. After he told everyone what you’d done, he
asked me about it, about what it could do and whether anyone else could build
one.”

“The
captains around me were asking why the raiders had used Deforyan uniforms,”
Feran added. “The ones who attacked Tuuler, you know?”

“They
didn’t find all that out from the Lord-Protector, or the majer,” Alucius
pointed out.

“That’s
not good,” Feran suggested.

“It
may not be so bad,” Alucius replied. “Think about how we got here.”

Heald
nodded, understanding both what Alucius had said and not said. Dereka was
clearly a place where the walls had both eyes and ears, if not more.

Tempre,
Lanachrona

T
he
Lord-Protector walked
into the conference chamber and seated himself at
the vacant seat. He looked over the two marshals and the Recorder of Deeds.
“Recorder…if you would report?”

“The
herder overcaptain is in Dereka. What do you expect from this gambit?” asked
the silver-clad Recorder of Deeds, his voice flat. His eyes were dark circles
in a face that had become ever more white since winter.

Following
his words, silence extended around the conference table, then deepened. No one
spoke.

After
a time, the Lord-Protector smiled, if faintly. “My dear Recorder, that is the
first time ever that you have spoken sharply to me. I trust there is a reason
for such.”

“There
is, Lord-Protector. I fear greatly that you may be unleashing more than you realize.
You wish stability for Lanachrona, but the Table is now almost unable to show
the herder captain. This is less than encouraging when you have no—

“I
have been married less than a year, and I do have brothers.”

“I
beg your pardon, Lord-Protector. That was not what I meant. I was referring to
the Table. You know what it means when an image is not shown.”

“It
means, my dear Recorder, that I was right. Aellyan Edyss has his pteridons. We
have sent our Talent-weapon as well. They will fight in Deforya or in the
Barrier Range. Either way, we win. If the overcaptain prevails, we commend him,
and send him back to being a herder, and that is what he wants. And he will be
grateful for such. If he shows signs of wishing battle glory, we may even
promote him to majer and send more forces to him so that he can attack and
conquer the nomads. That will also keep the good Colonel Weslyn looking over
his shoulder. If the overcaptain does not prevail, I am certain he will create
far greater damage to the nomads than Aellyan Edyss can imagine. That will give
Edyss great pause about attacking us in the near future, and it will also bind
the Landarch, if he holds Deforya, closer to us.”

“You
do not think this captain will turn his forces against you?” asked Marshal
Alyniat.

“Not
so long as he is a herder with a stead, and with a mother, a grandsire, and a
wife. The stead is his life. It is for all herders.” The Lord-Protector smiled,
coldly. “And if anything should happen to his stead or
any
of them, I would do far worse to whoever caused it to occur than you can
possibly imagine. I do not like good tools being damaged through pettiness.”

The
two marshals nodded acquiescence. The Recorder shivered imperceptibly.

“What
of the nomads?” asked the Lord-Protector.

“They
are scouting the passes to the north, between Illegea and Deforya. They are
also gathering supplies,” the Recorder replied. “As you know, the Table does
not reveal the pteridons, but there has been no sign of further destruction.”

“Good.”
The Lord-Protector turned to the older marshal. “How long will it take to build
up the forces necessary to move from Eastice to Northport?”

“The
Recorder’s Table shows that there are but two Matrite horse companies north of
Harmony. We will have what we need to take Northport in less than two weeks. We
should have Harmony by the end of harvest. After that, the fighting will be
most intense and difficult. It is possible we might reach Arwyn before winter.”

“Then
we will consolidate our position before winter, wherever that may be. We will
not make the mistakes the Matrial did.” The Lord-Protector turned to Alyniat,
then the Recorder. “You will be sure to report on any movements of Matrite
troopers?”

“Yes,
Lord-Protector.”

“Is…Do
you think that moving troopers west…?” Wyerl did not finish the sentence.

“No.
It is not absolutely certain. But Aellyan Edyss is a nomad. He thinks of
plunder and golds. That is why he wants Deforya and control of the Northern
Pass. If we strike in Madrien now, we can gain control of all major ports on
the coast except Hafin, and, in time, we can defeat the Matrites. We already
control most of the high roads, and golds are now flowing from our tariffs at
Southgate.”

The
two marshals nodded once more.

A
lucius
could feel the coolness of
smooth tile under his feet. He looked down
and discovered he wore but simple under-drawers, rather than his nightsilk
undergarments. As he raised his eyes, a woman with shimmering black hair,
violet eyes, and flawless white skin, clad in less even than Alucius wore,
stepped through the archway opposite him, swaying toward the herder, smiling,
beckoning, suggesting that all manner of delights were within his reach. Yet
Alucius hesitated, stepping back, feeling a deep chill from somewhere.

The
woman beckoned once more, and Alucius edged farther backward.

A
bolt of purple flame appeared at her fingertips, then flared from her fingers.
He threw up a sabre that had appeared in his hand. Flame sprayed past him, the
heat so intense it was like an iron mill. He could smell hair burning, his
hair—

Alucius
jerked upright from the wide bed in the ancient stone-walled officers’ quarters
in the barracks of the Lancers of Dereka, barracks whose walls, at least, dated
back to before the Cataclysm. In the darkness that was more like twilight to
him, he glanced around, but he could neither see nor sense anyone within the
room, perfectly silent except for his own ragged breathing. He swallowed, then
moistened dry lips.

Why
the Matrial—or the image he had of her? He had not had that dream since right
after he had killed the Matrial. Why now? He hadn’t even thought of the former
ruler of Madrien, except perhaps in passing, in weeks. Was it being surrounded
by ancient structures? Or the sense of sorrow that permeated Deforya?

After
swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Alucius stood. He walked to the
window and opened the shutters slightly. Below, the courtyard was empty. Then
he turned. He still needed sleep, and he’d regret not sleeping all too much on
the ride that lay before Twenty-first Company.

As
he slipped back under the thin blanket that was all he needed on the cool
summer night, he tried not to think about the reasons behind the dream. He also
worried about Wendra, although he couldn’t say why the dream had called up
those concerns, and he wished he had a way to write her, or, better yet, that
he could return to the stead. But that return, he knew full well, was months
away—and only if he and his company survived.