Darknesses (22 page)

E
arly
on Duadi,
right after muster, Alucius and the third squad of
Twenty-first Company led the patrols down from Black Ridge on a trail cut from
the black lava sometime in the distant past, a trail that was even more narrow
than the one across the Barrier Range. Switchback followed switchback, and
while the exposed stretches were clear, the protected niches just beyond each
switchback were piled high with fine dark sand that spilled onto the trail in
places.

Alucius
was near the lead, with just two scouts before him. Even after they had
traveled less than a vingt, he could see that there were no hoofprints or
footprints on the trail, just rodent tracks and occasional bird tracings, and
one slithering trace that indicated a largish snake. But he could sense nothing
with his Talent—except for his troopers and their mounts.

At
the bottom of the cliff trail, as Alucius and third squad waited for Captain
Clifyr and his first squad, Alucius studied the nearly sheer cliff. So far as
he could tell, there was no other way to Black Ridge from the grasslands—not
directly. There were other defiles and gorges heading northward, and it was
certainly possible that the nomads could use them to bypass the sheer cliff and
circle back along the supply trail, but the four-man guard detail could
certainly hold off any attack up the trail long enough for reinforcements to
cross the open two hundred yards from the barracks to overwhelm any
attackers—except perhaps at night, when they would not be able to see the
attackers against the shadows and dark stone until they were within a few
hundred yards.

He
decided to make that point to the majer on his return—after he had experienced
how hard the ride was back up the narrow and ancient trail.

The
grass that covered everything was still the full green of early summer,
spraying out of thick root clumps that protruded a finger’s width from the
ground. Each clump was separated from the next by perhaps two handspans. In
most places, the grass had reached a level waist high on a grown man, tall
enough to conceal a scout hidden in it, but not tall enough to hide a standing
man or mount. Where the grass was thinner, Alucius could see the tannish
remnants of the previous year’s growth, although there was little enough of
that. Were there beetles or insects that consumed the dead growth the way the
shellbeetles went after dead quarasote?

Captain
Clifyr rode to meet Alucius well before the last of the squad from Twenty-third
Company cleared the narrow trail. He inclined his head as he reined up short of
Alucius. “Overcaptain.”

“Captain.
How did you find the descent?”

“It’s
steep. The footing is good, except for where there’s sand.” Clifyr paused. “How
would you like to handle the return rendezvous?”

“I
don’t think we should plan on that. We’ll be heading farther west,” Alucius
said. “We should make sure we each have our full squad before coming back, but
one of us could be waiting here for some time, and that would just make whoever
it is a target.”

“The
majer wants everyone back—”

Alucius
looked at Clifyr, and said quietly, “You can do as you think best. We will
probably take longer. You can wait here at the bottom or head back up. If
you’re not here, and there aren’t tracks heading back up, we will make a quick
search.”

Clifyr
frowned, then nodded. “As you wish, Overcaptain.”

“It’s
not something we can plan that well. You’ll do fine,” Alucius said, using a
touch of Talent to project reassurance and confidence. “We’ll see you late this
afternoon.” Then he turned Wildebeast back toward third squad.

As
Clifyr marshaled his squad, Alucius reined up beside the third squad leader.
“Faisyn…we’ll ride together until we get to a point where we’re opposite that
next canyon to the west. Then, you’ll head south from there. You take the left
file, with Waris as your scout, and I’ll take the right file and Deuryn. You’re
clear on the area to travel? And how far south you’ll go?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Don’t
stop for very long when you take breaks, and keep in mind that we’ll be
tracked, at least from a distance, by the nomads. They could attack at any
time. I don’t think they will, but they could.” Alucius laughed softly. “I’ve
been wrong before, and I wouldn’t want unnecessary casualties because you took
my word. With the Lanachronans and the Matrites, we had some idea how they
fought. Here, we don’t have any idea.”

“But
you think they’ll feel us out?”

“I’m
fairly sure of that. What I don’t know is whether feeling us out is attacking
immediately to see how we defend ourselves or watching and then attacking.”

Faisyn
nodded.

“Patrol
forward!” Alucius ordered.

Two
glasses passed before they reached the higher ridge overlooking the narrow
stream that emerged from the Barrier Range through a narrow defile a vingt to
the north. The ride had been slower than Alucius had thought, because the grass
was thicker, and there were no signs of any trails. Once they had reined up on
the crest of the ridge, Alucius studied the terrain once more.

Below
them, in the gentle swale, the stream meandered in a southwest direction. From
what observations Alucius and the majer had made and from the fires they had
seen the night before, the nomads had camped on the southern side of the stream
close to seven vingts farther to the southwest.

Alucius
gestured to the squad leader, riding to his right. “Faisyn.”

“Sir?”

“Remember.
You go south and then east from here. You’re not to go any farther west than
you already are. And when you get back to the base of the trail, you’re to wait
there, but in such a way that you can ride up it immediately if you’re
threatened. You’d be exposed until you get to the first switchback, but you
could hold that against a company.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“Head
your subsquad out. We’ll see you later.”

Alucius
watched for a time until he was certain that no one was following, not that his
Talent could sense, before he turned Wildebeast and started down the slope to
the stream. The stream was only three yards wide, with a mud-and-clay bottom,
but clear and nearly a yard deep.

After
refilling water bottles and watering their mounts, they headed up the slope on
the far side. About halfway up, Alucius sensed riders to the south, barely at
the range of his Talent.

“Dueryn!”

“Yes,
sir?” The scout rode up alongside Alucius.

“We’re
nearing the edge of the territory the nomads patrol. I’d like you to trail us a
bit and keep a close eye out to the south.”

“Yes,
sir.”

As
Dueryn turned his mount, Alucius beckoned to Velmyr, an older trooper.

“Sir?”

“I’d
like you to ride ahead, not far, about fifty yards, and give a yell if you see
anything.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
doubted that even half a glass had passed before Deuryn returned and eased his
mount up beside Alucius. “We’re being followed, sir. There’s a bunch of nomads
about a vingt to the south on the next rise, the one on the other side of the
stream. Mostly, they’re staying below the crest on the far side.”

“How
many?” asked Alucius.

“I’d
say only five or six.”

That
number matched the feel that Alucius had gotten from his Talent. “Then we don’t
have to worry about an immediate attack. They’d have to ride down, and then up
against us anyway. But keep watching and let me know if anything changes.”

As
Dueryn turned his mount, Alucius tried to stretch his Talent sense to the
south. He gained a feeling of many men somewhere beyond the stream, but the
vagueness of the feeling meant that they were at least three or four vingts
distant. But there was something, someone, directly ahead.

“Velmyr!”

“Sir?”

Alucius
did not speak, but gestured for the trooper to return, then motioned for him to
ride beside him.

“What
have you seen?” he asked, as the patrol followed the ridgeline toward the
southwest. They were now a good two to three vingts south of the cliffs that
marked the southern edge of the Barrier Range.

“Grass,
sir, and more grass. Might be some riders ahead—out on the horizon on the other
side of the stream. Saw a few dark spots…but only a few times.”

“That
wouldn’t surprise me.” Alucius could sense that a single nomad or scout lay in
the green waist-high grass, a hundred yards ahead.

“Patrol
halt!” He reined up with the order to the half squad patrol. Did he want to
reveal that they knew?

“Quiet,”
Alucius said, studying the grass ahead. “There’s someone or something in the
grass ahead. From the way the grass was moving against the wind, it’s either a
grass-cat or a nomad scout.”

For
a time, the patrol remained motionless, the only sounds those of the mounts
breathing and the occasional creak of leather as a trooper shifted his weight
in the saddle. Alucius thought. He really didn’t like shooting someone, and he
didn’t want to avoid the area. If they rode closer, someone would get shot,
probably one of his men.

“You
can either stand up or get shot!” Alucius finally called out.

There
was no response. Alucius didn’t sense fear, but something more like contempt.
He took a long slow breath as he pulled out the heavy militia rifle, cocked it
and aimed. He fired slightly wide of the hidden figure.

There
was no response. “The next shot will be for you!” Alucius recocked the rifle.

The
sense of arrogance remained, and the nomad stayed hidden.

With
a sense of regret, Alucius fired again.
Crack!

Even
with the sense of pain that washed back over Alucius, he could feel no fear,
and no response, but a gathering of resolve. So when the nomad leapt to his
feet with his own rifle, Alucius was ready with his third shot. Before the
nomad could squeeze the trigger on his weapon, he pitched forward into the
grass, the red-dark void of death washing over Alucius.

“…sander
shit…” came a faint murmur from behind Alucius.

Alucius
scanned the area, with eyes, ears, and Talent, but could sense nothing near,
although there might be a horse in the low wash farther south. “Patrol
forward!”

He
reined up opposite the dead man and dismounted, then quickly searched the body,
finding only a few coins, which he left, but neither maps nor anything else
beyond what any trooper might carry. Leaving the body in the grass, he
remounted and gestured for the patrol to continue.

“…didn’t
see the grass moving…”

“…because
you’re not a herder…”

“…herders
are scary…never want to upset ’em…story is that back when he was a ranker years
ago, three guys jumped him in the dark, and he killed all three with his bare
hands…”

Alucius
wanted to shake his head. It had been in training, and there had been only two,
and he’d flattened both without damage—although he could have killed them as
easily. He hadn’t had to, though, and they’d been stupid enough to get killed
in the early skirmishes over Soulend.

“Keep
an eye out!” he ordered, as much to stop the murmurs as anything.

They
continued southwest for another glass and a half before Alucius called a halt.
The bands of nomads on the opposite ridge had become more numerous—Alucius and
the others had spotted four separate groups, but none held more than four or
five riders.

With
their numbers increasing, and with a squad at risk, he wasn’t about to head
farther or to cross the stream to get any nearer to the nomads, not in a new
land where he was learning and where they would be clearly outnumbered in any
skirmish.

From
his Talent, he could tell that the majority of the nomads were where they had
been reported, and in the late afternoon, the smoke from the cookfires
confirmed that. The acrid odor that drifted northward on the hint of the breeze
confirmed another suspicion—that the nomads were not using firewood for their
cookfires. Then, they couldn’t have been. From what Alucius had seen there were
neither trees nor brush suitable for that.

On
the return, Alucius kept checking with his Talent, and the scouts Dueryn
continued to report, but the nomads who trailed them remained a good vingt to
the south, shadowing them all the way back to the bottom of the trail up to
Black Ridge where Faisyn and his half squad were waiting, along with two
troopers from Twenty-third Company, who immediately started up the trail once
they saw Alucius.

T
hree
more days
of patrols had changed nothing, except that more nomads
shadowed each patrol. Alucius was eating breakfast in the sandstone-walled
officers’ mess, seated on a sturdy wooden chair that was doubtless older than
he was. Before him, on a chipped crockery platter also of antique vintage, was
an omelet stuffed with cheese and some form of meat, with a mixture of dried
apples and plumapples on the side—prepared by the Deforyan cook brought along
with the supply wagons.

The
only officers in the mess were those from the west—Feran, Clifyr, and Heald.
Koryt had left a few moments earlier, as had Majer Draspyr. Deforyan officers,
Alucius had observed, rose somewhat later.

“How
long before they attack, do you think?” asked Heald.

“Today…tomorrow.
No later than the day after,” Feran suggested.

Alucius
swallowed the bitter ale that came with breakfast and took a last mouthful of
the omelet, but did not offer an opinion as he finished off the dried fruit.

Feran
glanced across the table at Alucius, as if to ask his opinion.

Alucius
shrugged, although he shared the older officer’s views that any attack would be
soon in coming.

Majer
Draspyr appeared in the archway—flushed. “Get your men armed and ready! Have
your squad leaders form them up on foot out front! Then meet me in the
conference room!”

“Yes,
sir.” Alucius stood. He could have sensed the majer’s agitation even without
Talent.

“Today,
I’d wager,” muttered Feran under his breath as he also stood.

“You’ll
pardon me if I don’t take that wager,” Heald replied.

Alucius
let the others head toward the barracks directly. Instead, he loped out of the
mess and toward the overlook of the ledge, twenty yards to the right of the
half squad of Deforyan troopers, who just stood looking to the south. For a
long moment, Alucius gazed out. Three columns, each vingts long, rode
northward. The center column was headed toward the trail at the base of Black
Ridge. After another look, he hurried toward the sandstone archway that held
the section of barracks where Twenty-first Company was quartered.

Longyl
was already waiting for him. “Told the men to stand by, sir.”

“Good.
Have them form up by squads on foot in front of the barracks area. With full
arms and as many cartridges as they can carry. The nomads are setting up for an
attack. It could be a very long day.” Alucius paused. “Keep them as close to
the back cliff as you can.”

“Ah…yes,
sir.”

“We
can move forward when we need to.” Alucius didn’t explain further, because he
feared the explanation wouldn’t have made much sense, since it was based more
on feelings than on anything he could explain.

“I’ll
meet you there. I have to meet with Majer Draspyr first.”

“Yes,
sir.”

He
hurried back to his room and picked up both rifles, as well as both cartridge
belts, before heading back outside. In front of the entrance to the officers’
quarters, he paused, looking southward. In the sky, circling up from nomads’
camp, were distant black specks. Alucius thought. The nomads’ camp was a good
six vingts from Black Ridge, yet he could see the wings of whatever flew
upward, and he could see them clearly. Nothing he had ever seen was big enough
for that. He turned and headed back inside to the conference room. He wasn’t
the last, since Captain Koryt followed him inside.

As
Alucius seated himself, Draspyr glanced pointedly at the pair of rifles Alucius
carried, but said nothing for a moment. Then he began, “From what we can see,
the nomads have more than fifty companies’ worth of riders. I have not seen the
rumored pteridons—”

“They’re
out there now,” Alucius said. “They’re circling the nomad encampment.”

Draspyr
nodded impatiently. “So we must face thousands of nomads and magical creatures.
I have ordered Twenty-third Company to take positions along the front of the
ledge immediately, but we will rotate that duty. The Deforyans have dispatched
their five companies back along the trail. They will take positions at places
where the nomads cannot easily attack…”

Alucius
had his doubts about that aspect of the strategy, but decided against voicing
it. Draspyr wasn’t about to listen.

“The
rest of you have your companies standing by just inside the barracks and
stables, by company. I leave it to Overcaptain Heald and Overcaptain Alucius as
to how you will arrange your troopers, but request that they hold themselves in
readiness in a fashion that does not tire them and so that they will be
prepared to move into the front positions as necessary. I will be visiting all
companies as I see fit.” He nodded briskly. “That is all.”

After
the majer stepped out, hurrying toward the front of the ledge where the
Twenty-third Company was arranging itself, Heald stepped toward Alucius. “How
do you want to do this?”

“One
company in each barracks corridor and two—Twenty-first and Third—in each stable
corridor?”

“Sounds
good to me.”

“With
double cartridge loads and all rifles loaded,” Alucius added. “If they do get
to the top, we may have to fire from the corridors and places with windows.”

“I’d
thought that. Hope it won’t be for a while.”

Alucius
turned to Feran. “Have Fifth Company take the barracks corridor.”

“We’ll
be ready.”

The
two stepped out into the open morning air, where Alucius looked southward, into
the sky. The pteridons were still circling over the nomad camp, but were now a
good thousand yards higher than Black Ridge and climbing. “We’d better get
everyone in position.” He moved quickly toward the space before the barracks,
Feran walking beside him. As they neared Twenty-first Company, Feran stepped
away and hurried toward Fifth Company.

“Twenty-first
Company, all accounted for and ready, sir,” Longyl reported.

“We’re
to be ready to reinforce or replace Twenty-third Company. In the meantime,
we’re to form up by squads inside the middle stable arch.”

Longyl
raised his eyebrows.

“There’s
no sense in being out in the open.” Alucius gestured skyward toward the
pteridons, who had formed into a long line headed northward toward Black Ridge.
He counted eleven.

Crack! Crack!
The troopers from Twenty-third Company began
to fire over the side of the ledge.

There
was a dull
clunk
on the cliff wall well above
Twenty-first Company, and then a grayish blob of metal that had been a bullet
dropped onto the sandy stone just behind the last trooper in fourth squad.

“Twenty-first
Company! Re-form in the archway to stable number two, by squads, first squad
forward! Move!”

As
Twenty-first Company re-formed, Alucius glanced along the front edge of the
sandstone cliff holding quarters and stables. Fifth Company was almost clear,
and even Third and Eleventh Companies were moving inside the cliff structures.
Only Twenty-third Company was exposed, but most of the troopers were in prone
positions along the edge of the rocky black ledge, firing down at the advancing
nomads.

Once
the rest of Twenty-first Company was inside the stable archway, Alucius joined
them, standing beside the right wall of the high arch. The Lanachronan troopers
continued to fire downward, and bullets continued to flatten themselves against
the cliff. Many lodged there, but a number continued to drop onto the stone
below like intermittent lead hail.

Longyl
stepped up beside Alucius. “Would more troopers out there help, sir?”

“The
nomads can only ride up that trail single file.” He glanced to the east, where
the road or trail from Dereka wound out of the Barrier Range. “I’m more worried
about being taken from behind. Maybe you should send out Waris and Dueryn…to
see what’s happening along the trail. I’m not all that trusting that the
Deforyans have done what the majer thought.”

Longyl
looked blank.

“They’re
supposed to have been covering the trail so that we don’t get encircled.”
Alucius glanced eastward. “I have doubts.”

“I’ll
send Waris and Dueryn out immediately, sir.”

“Get
them out of here quickly,” Alucius said.

Longyl
vanished, and almost immediately the two scouts reappeared, leading their
mounts.

Alucius
smothered a rueful smile. Longyl—or Faisyn—had anticipated the need for
scouts—more than he had. Still, he watched as the two rode along the front of
the sandstone escarpment and disappeared around the cliff edge on the trail
that led back toward Dereka.

Longyl
reappeared.

“Good
thinking,” Alucius said, turning to the senior squad leader.

“Sir…what’s
that?”

A
line of bluish flame swept across the western end of the troopers firing down
at the nomads riding up the trail toward Black Ridge. So intense were the
flames that Alucius could feel the heat from where he stood next to the stable
openings. He stepped back involuntarily. The westernmost troopers in blue and
cream turned into blackened figures almost instantly—including Captain Clifyr,
whose figure pitched forward, twitching.

Behind
the wave of flame swooped down a blue-winged creature—easily ten yards long
from the tip of its beak to the end of the tail, a little over fifty yards
above the ledge. In a saddle just forward of the wings sat a rider, leaning
forward with a metallic blue lance, from which flared more of the blue flame.

As
the pteridon passed, Alucius ducked out of the stable archway and scanned the
sky. There were no more of the pteridons nearby, although he thought that one
was turning to the west, ready to sweep down on Black Ridge to follow the
first. He glanced out to the ledge where half a company remained—flat on the
stone, still firing downward.

No
one was ordering anything. Carrying one rifle, Alucius sprinted forward. “Take
cover! Back to the barracks and stables!”

Several
of the troopers looked up.

“Back
to the cliff!” Alucius snapped. “Now!”

Slowly,
ever so slowly, the Lanachronans began to move.

“Move!”
Alucius bellowed. “Unless you want to be blasted into charcoal!”

That
worked. The remaining troopers sprinted toward Alucius.

Alucius
glanced up, seeing a shadow coming out of the early-morning sun. He sprinted
back toward the stable archway.

The
last four or five troopers were engulfed in flame, and Alucius felt the heat on
the back of his neck as he scrambled under cover. Once inside the stable
archway, he turned in time to see another pteridon sweep past, little more than
thirty yards above the flat expanse of Black Ridge.

“Overcaptain!”

Alucius
turned.

“I
didn’t order that,” Draspyr growled. “They weren’t your troopers, Overcaptain.
With no one guarding the trail, the nomads will be on us.”

“Once
they reach the top, they’re exposed as well,” Alucius pointed out. “We station
our men at every door and arch. We’ll try to bring down the pteridons from
there first.” Then he added, “Their captain was killed by the first pteridon.
If they’d stayed there, Majer, they’d all be dead by now.”

Draspyr
looked past Alucius at the faintly twitching blackened forms, then swallowed.
After a moment, he said. “I…beg your pardon, Overcaptain. Carry on.” With that,
he turned away.

Alucius
looked out from the archway once more as another pteridon swept by, barely
fifty yards above the front of the ledge, so close that Alucius could make out
the dark-haired rider and the blue metallic lance he carried—even as Alucius
aimed, and fired.

Although
he
knew
he had struck the blue-winged creature, the
wings continued to beat as the pteridon vanished from his sight to the east.

“Aim
for the riders!” he ordered. “Pass it on.” Then he felt stupid, because he’d
never ordered the company into firing order. He turned to Longyl. “Put first
squad here in the arch in two ranks.”

“First
squad to the fore! Two ranks, first rank, fire from your knees!”

Another
pteridon swept in from the west, and Alucius was ready. His shot hit the rider.
The rider slumped in the blue saddle, and the pteridon wheeled, moving rapidly
southward. Impossibly…one of the clawed forefeet reached up and plucked the
blue metallic lance from the air as it slipped from the hands of the dying or
dead rider.

Alucius
wiped his steaming forehead. He had the feeling that the pteridon would be
back—with another rider.

More
blue flame lashed across the flat ledge, beginning about twenty yards from the
red sandstone cliff holding the quarters and stables and moving southward.
Alucius frowned, trying to figure out what that meant.

“Here
they come!” Longyl called.

Alucius
shifted his concentration to the edge of the ledge where the trail ended—or
began. Several nomads had just appeared there, turning and urging their mounts
forward.

“Twenty-first
Company! On the nomads!” Alucius ordered. “Fire!”

He
aimed for the lead mount and fired.
Crack!
The horse
went down. Then he went for the second rider’s mount. The rider urged his mount
over the fallen horse, and Alucius’s shot missed. The next one didn’t. With the
fire from the other companies, the rush of nomads halted.

For
several moments, no other nomads appeared, and Alucius used the time to reload,
even though his magazine wasn’t empty. The heap of dead riders and mounts at
the end of the upward trail would certainly slow progress there, enough,
Alucius hoped, that the troopers could pick off the nomads as fast as they
could get up the narrow trail. But the standoff was only temporary—until the
flanking columns of nomads reached the trails leading back to Black Ridge.