Darknesses (21 page)

Tempre,
Lanachrona

T
he
Recorder of Deeds stood alone
in the marble-walled room deep beneath the
palace of the Lord-Protector, his eyes fixed on the Table of the Recorders.

The
mirrored-silver surface swirled and was covered in ruby mists. Then, out of the
ruby mists, mists that had taken on a purplish black tinge, appeared the
commanding figure of a man, tall, broad-shouldered, with violet-red eyes,
alabaster skin, and black hair. Behind him was a hall with pink marble walls,
golden columns, and deep purple hangings trimmed in gold, a hall that resembled
one of the few antique illustrations left of the now-vanished great halls of
Elcien or Ludar.

The
Recorder of Deeds studied the chamber, and the man, who smiled as if he knew he
was being observed. Then the scene vanished, to be replaced by the view of a
single page, half diagram, half text.

The
Recorder squinted to make out what was displayed. As he read, his eyes widened,
and he frantically reached for a sheet of paper, finding only a message tucked
inside his silver vestments, which he flattened on the wood beside the glass,
turning the reverse side up. Using the blank reverse side and a markstick, he
began to copy the document, and the words beneath the clearly ancient
illustration.

Sweat
poured down his forehead. Several times, he had to blot the salty perspiration
away from his eyes with his upper arm and sleeve as he feverishly continued to
copy what the Table displayed.

In
time, shivering and shuddering, his vestments and undergarments soaked, he
released the image displayed in the table and staggered to the single chair set
against the ancient wall, seating himself with a heavy thump. But his eyes,
tinged with the slightest hint of purple, glittered as he read what he had
copied, even as he massaged his aching forehead.

A
nother
two days passed
before the ten companies rode into the Deforyan fortress
post on the southern edge of the Barrier Range. Black Ridge was a wide ledge
set atop a dark outcropping of ancient lava. At the back of the ledge—the north
side—rose a thousand-yard-high cliff—nearly sheer—while the southern side of
the ledge ended in an equally sheer drop to the grasslands below. The flat
section of the ledge itself was almost two hundred yards wide, and close to a
vingt in length, with the entry trail at the eastern end. The western end of
the ledge just halted where the sandstone curved forward, leaving a sheer drop
from more than a thousand yards above to the grasslands below and a stone wall
rising another thousand yards skyward.

Alucius
worried about the position. While there was a narrow trail down to the
grasslands, and while the cliffs made attack difficult, there was only one way
back to Dereka. Why hadn’t the ancient builders created an alternative? Or had
they been confident that they would never need another way out?

Both
stables and quarters had been chiseled or cut out of the layer of red sandstone
that formed the higher cliff at the back of the ledge. One set of stables was
at each end of the areas that had been chiseled or cut out of the red
sandstone. From the rounded edges of the doorways and arches, Alucius could
tell that they had been tunneled out a long time ago. He could also see that
wide arcing areas of the red sandstone around and above the arches were
slightly darker than the other areas, but only around the archways and the very
few windows cut into the red stone. He glanced farther to the west, but there
were no such dark areas in the section of the cliff where there were no tunnels
and arches.

“The
stables are inside the large arches on the east end, the quarters on the west
end…”

Following
the orders, and after waiting for the companies that had arrived earlier,
Alucius directed Twenty-first Company toward the stables. The five Deforyan
companies stationed at Black Ridge before were forming up to head back to
Dereka, almost as soon as Fifth Company had begun to stable their mounts.

When
he had seen to his troopers and their mounts, and made sure that there was
sufficient feed and hay—some probably gathered from the grasslands
below—Alucius stabled Wildebeast in the section reserved for officers. He was
leaving the stables when Feran stepped up beside him.

“They
could hardly wait to leave. I’d say that means that the nomads are getting
ready to attack, but I can’t believe—I guess I can, but…”

“That
their commander let them leave?” Alucius raised his eyebrows. “We’re here. Why
would they want to lose another five companies in the Barrier Range? They’ll claim
they’ll fight to protect Dereka if the nomads get that far.”

“Dereka…”
muttered Feran. “I suppose so. It’s the only thing of value we’ve seen—except
the orchards.”

Captain
Clifyr walked toward the two, gesturing toward the second archway from the west
end, cut into the red sandstone. “The officers’ quarters are in there. You can
take any space that’s vacant, but it’s two to a room. As soon as you can, the
majer would like to meet. There’s a conference room just inside that same
archway.”

“Thank
you, Captain.” Alucius nodded politely, then shifted the saddlebags on his
shoulder, and with a rifle in each hand, headed for the indicated archway.

Feran
matched his steps. “I still don’t much care for him.”

“He
does what the majer wants.”

“Maybe
that’s why.”

The
officers’ quarters amounted to small windowless cubicles little more than three
yards by two, set along a corridor with a surprising high ceiling—almost three
yards high. Each had two bunks, but was doorless, with a shelf above the head
of each bunk, and a series of pegs above the foot. Alucius doubted that both
men could dress at the same time.

“Which
bunk do you want?” Feran grinned. “After all, you have the rank.”

“I’ll
take the one on the left.” Not that it made much difference, since they were identical.
After quickly setting his gear on the shelf, Alucius slipped out of the
confined space and walked farther down the corridor. Just short of the end was
a vertical air shaft from which poured cooler air, creating a flow of air from
the back of the corridor forward. Beyond the air shaft was a bathing chamber,
with a small fountain, clearly fed by some sort of underground source.

Alucius
turned and headed back toward the conference room, and Feran joined him.

Captain
Clifyr was already in the conference space, which held a long sandstone table
carved from the cliff itself, if reinforced with wooden braces in places, and
covered with layers of some sort of varnish or finish. A good dozen stools,
none of them of recent construction, were set around the table. The single
window, with actual shutters, had been closed, although Alucius could feel the
warm air seeping through the shutter slats.

Alucius
and Feran took stools and waited. Shortly, both Heald and Koryt appeared, and
then Clifyr slipped out, returning in moments with Majer Draspyr.

The
four former militia officers stood. Draspyr motioned for them to take their
stools once more, then unrolled a map and weighted it down with small stones
produced by Clifyr, before looking over the officers once more and beginning.
“According to the Deforyan commander who just left, the nomads are encamped
some ten vingts to the south, along a small stream—the only stream—in this part
of the Barrier Range. He has not seen any sign of the pteridons, but, according
to the information I received before we left Borlan, in the attacks on the
Praetorian forces the pteridons did not appear until sometime shortly before
the battle.

“We
will begin patrols tomorrow. Patrols will consist of two squads, each squad
from a different company. Until we have more information, I am requesting that
each of you accompany the squad you choose for patrols. Tomorrow, the patrol
companies will be the Twenty-third Company of the Southern Guard and the
Twenty-first Company of the Northern Guard. On Tridi, it will be Third and
Fifth Companies, and on Quattri Twenty-third Company and Eleventh Company. Once
you are clear of the cliff here, you are to split into subsquads, and search
the areas on the map here, as indicated…” Draspyr pointed. “The first section…”

Alucius
noted that Twenty-first Company was assigned the section that took in where the
nomads were supposed to be camped.

“You
are to gather information about possible routes to and from the nomad
encampment, sources of forage for mounts, places suitable for battle, and
places unsuitable. Any information about the nomads, their mounts, and their
weapons is particularly necessary…” Draspyr continued for a good fifth of a
glass before stopping and asking, “Now. Do any of you have any questions?”

Alucius
cleared his throat. “Sir?”

“Yes,
Overcaptain?”

“Did
any of the Deforyan officers mention why they were sending back five companies
when a nomad attack might be imminent?”

“No,
they did not, Overcaptain.”

Alucius
could sense the majer’s anger at the question, or at the Deforyans, and he
merely replied, “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir?”
asked Heald. “Do we have any information on the numbers of nomads?”

“I
regret that we do not, since the Deforyans did not send any scouts down into
the grasslands. Or not very far.”

That
didn’t astonish Alucius, although it did surprise both Koryt and Clifyr.

“Sir?”
asked Feran. “Are the Deforyans here just to hold this base? Or am I missing
something?”

“I
think, Captain Feran, that you have grasped the situation. We cannot, however,
say much about their orders, since they are under the command of the Landarch,
and they have kindly allowed us to share their quarters and provided supplies.
We are almost here on sufferance, it would appear.” Draspyr straightened. “I
will see you all in the officers’ mess shortly.”

“They
have one?” murmured Feran under his breath.

Alucius
waited until the majer had left. “They’d have to have one. Otherwise, the
officers would have to eat with mere rankers.”

“They
couldn’t do that,” Heald said quietly. “They don’t even like eating with career
types.”

Clifyr
was straining to hear without seeming to do so.

Alucius
turned toward the Southern Guard captain. “We were considering what sort of
mess they might have here.”

“It’s
actually quite suitable,” Clifyr said. “Enough chairs and tables for close to
forty, and a well-equipped kitchen.”

Feran
and Heald smiled and nodded.

“Thank
you,” Alucius replied, waiting for Clifyr to leave.

“This
really smells like sander shit,” Feran finally said. “We’re supposed to scout,
and fight, and…the Deforyans are just going to sit up here and see if the
nomads attack?”

“They
won’t attack here,” Heald said. “They’ll just ride around Black Ridge and head
for Dereka.”

“We’ll
have to see,” Alucius replied. “Starting tomorrow.”

The
others nodded, not happily, but then, Alucius wasn’t exactly pleased, either.

South
of the Barrier Range, Illegea

I
n
the cool of evening,
nearly a score of Myrmidon warleaders had gathered
in the largest tent in the encampment, and half the panels had been lifted to
provide air. They sat cross-legged on the thin but elegantly woven carpets
circled around the stool on which Aellyan Edyss was seated. Outside in the
gathering twilight, some of the younger Myrmidons had also gathered, far enough
back from the light cast by lamps set on posts pounded into the ground so that
their faces could not be seen.

“We
are the riders of the wind,” Edyss said, his voice stating the obvious. “We
ride the wind either upon our mounts or upon the pteridons, and nothing stands
before the wind.” After a pause, he continued. “The westerners believe that all
we live for is plunder. Plunder is good.” He grinned. “It is very good. But it
is not enough. For generations, the easterners and the westerners have ridden
the great road through our lands, doing as they please, scorning us. Even now,
they scorn us. Up on the black ledge, there are ten companies of troopers. There
have always been five. Now, the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona has deigned to
send a mere five companies. Do they think so little of us that they believe
five more companies—a few hundred weak westerners with rifles—can stop us from
reclaiming our destiny?”

A
low and rumbled “No!” rose from the warleaders.

“For
generations, the weaklings of Deforya have trusted in the mountains to keep
them safe. They believed that we could never act together. They have high
grasslands, and they have few horses. They have water through all the year, and
yet they huddle in a handful of towns and cities. They control the northern
high road, and yet they reap little gain from it. Are they guardians of the
land? Do they celebrate the sky and life? Do they deserve the land they hold?”

“No!”
rumbled forth once more.

“The
westerners…in their arrogance, they will come down from the mountains and they
will scout. For a time…let them, but watch what they do and how they do it. We
will only attack if they near our camp. They will see how mighty our force is,
and they will hesitate. While they hesitate, and before they can summon more of
their troopers, then we will attack them…and the despicable Deforyans.” Edyss
stood, his eyes blazing, his gaze catching the eyes of every warleader in turn.

In
the silence that followed, he seated himself once more on the stool.

“How
do we know that the Deforyans or their allies in black do not have a weapon
like the Lustreans did?” asked one of the older horse commanders, his weathered
face emotionless.

“We
do not know,” Aellyan Edyss replied. “But we will find out before we bring all
the pteridons to battle. We of the grasslands can be as cunning as the great
grass serpents, when the need is there. If they do have such a weapon, we will
creep up the mountain in the darkness and overpower them while they sleep.” He
laughed. “We may do that anyway.”

“What
of the spirits in the mountains?”

“What
of them?” asked the blond-haired commander. “The grasslands have their spirits,
and they are far more numerous than those of the mountains. Have you once
feared to ride your horse because of grassland spirits?” His laugh was open,
yet mocking.

The
man who had asked the question looked down, and more laughter rang through the
tent.

“We
have already destroyed the greatest army raised in generations,” Edyss went on.
“If we strike when our enemies are weak, and choose the time and place of our
battles, you will see the banner of the new Myrmidons fly above Dereka, and
within your lives above far Alustre and Tempre, and even Hieron and Southgate.
Corus can be ours. It will be ours…”

In
the darkness beyond the tent, smiles appeared on the shadowed faces of the
younger Myrmidons.