Darknesses (50 page)

Dekhron,
Iron Valleys

T
he
round-faced trader
in a severe gray tunic walked through the mist toward
the large dwelling on the side street. When he stepped onto the porch, out of
the light night rain, the door opened.

A
taller white-haired man, sharp-featured even in dim light coming from the
hallway behind him, stood aside to let the younger man enter, then closed the
door. “Erhelya is at Halyne’s for the evening, and the servants were pleased to
get the night off.” He turned and walked through the front sitting room and
into the study behind it, lit by a single oil lamp on the corner of the desk.
There he seated himself and waited for the other to take the wooden armchair
across from him.

“I
had to rearrange the evening to meet you, Tarolt,” pointed out the younger man.

“I
understand.” The pale-faced older man nodded. “It was necessary. You know what
happened earlier? It may be that the one who had something to do with it might
be within our reach. But there is little time. I received a message just a
while ago.” His fingers tapped on the polished wood of the desk. “We will need
golds, tonight.”

“For
what, Halanat?”

“The
overcaptain. Before he reaches the range of the Aerlal Plateau.”

“You
had said—”

“Matters
have changed. Greatly. This had to be arranged quickly, because the colonel is
at times an idiot, most carefully—and most indirectly. No one who comes in
contact with the overcaptain, however distantly, will know anything. Also,
those employed for…direct…action needed to be most proficient with rifles. That
is why we need more than the usual for this.”

“Oh?”

“The
overcaptain is clearly a herder. They will have to use Lanachronan rifles. They
carry farther. Much farther—beyond the ability of a herder, in fact.” Tarolt
smiled cruelly. “Nightsilk has its limits, you know.”

“The
last time…he killed all four. How many have you been able to find in an
afternoon?”

“Enough.
They will succeed, or they will not. Either way, something will be accomplished.
At the very least, the colonel will be reminded of where his allegiances must
lie. And it is possible that, if they do not succeed, the overcaptain will wish
even more strongly to remain a herder. If he does so long enough, his abilities
will not matter. It would be best, however, if that were not left to fate. I
will need four hundred golds within the glass. Here.”

“Four…hundred?”
stammered Halanat. “Four hundred?”

“For
him, and for what is at stake, it is cheap at the price. Once he reaches the
quarasote lands, even twenty bravos and four hundred golds will not suffice.”
Tarolt stood. “Best you hasten.”

Slowly,
as if stunned, Halanat also rose.

A
lucius
woke early on Tridi,
then, even after saying his good-byes to third
squad, had to wait for the clerks to arrive so that he could make sure that
Faisyn and the third squad rankers got their furlough and pay. He also had to
wait for his own release orders and pay.

Alucius
would have liked to have said a formal good-bye to the rest of Twenty-first
Company, but, as he had suspected, those who opted to remain as troopers had
already been transferred to Fifth Company and were in Soulend under Feran—where
those of third squad who wished to stay in service would eventually join them.
The others had been released early, doubtless as a gold-saving practice, as
would be those of third squad who were due for release in the next month.

So
Alucius saddled and packed Wildebeast—then waited for clerks who were late,
later than normal, and who apologized profusely. Two were most apprehensive,
but Alucius could not determine why, even with his Talent. Also, all that
morning Alucius had not seen Colonel Weslyn, and so had to tender his farewells
to Majer Imealt. Still, by the third glass of the morning, he and Wildebeast
had left Northern Guard headquarters.

The
dwellings on the northern side of Dekhron, once more, seemed dilapidated, both
in comparison to those in Tempre and those he recalled in Madrien. Shutters
were unpainted, or splitting, or the paint was peeling. Most of the dwellings
had been built of salvaged stones from even more ancient dwellings, and most
mixed stones of differing sizes and colors. The roads reflected the same lack
of care. Except for the high road itself, the side roads and lanes were dirt
and clay, somewhat muddy from the rain of the night before.

None
of this was new to Alucius, but whenever he had returned home from a prolonged
absence, it was as though he saw the Iron Valleys as a stranger might.

As
he rode through the north side of Dekhron away from Northern Guard headquarters
for the last time, Alucius guided Wildebeast around a produce wagon, headed
north to Iron Stem, he suspected. Just beyond the wagon Alucius passed the last
dwellings that could have been said to have been part of Dekhron, although
there were isolated huts and holdings and small farms all along the high road,
except in one swampy area north of the road to Sudon and in a few rockier hill
areas where little grew.

Ahead
the high road was empty—for the moment. Alucius stood in the stirrups and
stretched, then settled into the saddle. He wished he’d been able to get away
earlier, since it would be late in the evening, possibly close to midnight,
before he reached the stead. If Wildebeast got too tired, Alucius could stop in
Iron Stem, much as he disliked prolonging the journey home—and back to Wendra.

The
clouds had lifted somewhat, but the sky remained gray, and the wind was no
longer warm but carried a definite touch of fall. For the first time in months,
Alucius was not perspiring under his nightsilk undergarments, and it was also
the first time that he wasn’t riding into either battle or unfamiliar lands.

He
smiled slightly at the irony.

With
the road clear, by early in the afternoon he was nearing the crossroads where
the side road west led to Sudon, the location of the Northern Guard training
post. He also realized that something was nagging at him.

He
had looked back over his shoulder several times, but so far as he could see,
and that was at least three vingts back, there was no one on the road. Ahead,
the road rose gradually as it passed through the low rolling hills that
extended from before him over three vingts until about a vingt before the
crossroads. He could still see a vingt ahead, and that part of the road was
clear.

Alucius
reined up and listened. Outside of a few birds, calling from a low hedge beside
a lane that led to the east, he could hear nothing. Nearby, he could sense
nothing of any size with his Talent. He thought he could sense a number of men
farther ahead, but that was probably some squad or company riding to or from
Sudon Post—or possibly a training group on maneuvers.

After
a time, he urged Wildebeast forward once more, but he kept scanning the road
ahead, as well as the areas to each side of the road.

He
rode another vingt northward until he reached the gentle incline that was the
only real slope on the high road between Dekhron and Soulend. The clouds
remained low, but without offering more rain. The sense of men ahead was
stronger, yet he could sense none that close to the road. There were two
groups, one in the low hills on each side of the road—somewhere more than a
vingt ahead. From what he could determine, each had the lifethread of a normal
man, and not the purple double-thread of an ifrit-possessed puppet, nor the
green-shot blackness of a herder.

He
checked the rifles at his knees, making sure each was fully loaded, then
uncorked a water bottle and took a long swallow. Rather than hurry Wildebeast,
he stopped, dismounted, and used one of the water bottles to water his mount
before he resumed riding, at a slightly slower pace. The road behind him
remained empty.

After
another half vingt, Alucius was certain. There were two groups in the hills
ahead, each at least several hundred yards back from the high road, one group
on the east, and the other on the west.

He
took a long deep breath. Now what?

He
had no proof that the men were waiting for him. Yet he could not imagine any
good reason for them to be waiting on both sides of the road except to attack
travelers. Was he becoming so fretful and self-centered that he thought that
ordinary brigands were out after him personally—or were they? He shook his
head. All he wanted was to get home, but, whatever the men were, continuing on
the high road would have been foolhardy.

With
a sigh, he turned Wildebeast westward, because the hills were slightly higher
there, and because the men who waited would have more trouble seeing his
approach from the southwest. When his Talent-sense indicated that he was within
a hill line of the group of men on the west side of the high road, Alucius rode
Wildebeast up the hillside, red sandy soil and rocks, with scattered pines and
junipers, until he reached a cluster of junipers less than thirty yards from
the top. There he dismounted and tied Wildebeast to the center juniper, where
his mount would not be seen unless someone ventured within less than fifty
yards.

Taking
both rifles and the one ammunition belt he had retained, Alucius edged up the
back side of the hill to the top, and an area with more pines, enough that,
while his Talent could sense the waiting men, his eyes could not. Step by step,
he slipped downhill and northward until he had a clear view, from behind a pine
with low, spreading branches, of those he sought.

The
men in the westernmost group were not soldiers, but bravos in dark gray, and
Alucius just watched for a time. What exactly should he do? There were ten of
them, all waiting, some sitting, some stretched out in firing positions, but a
good two hundred yards from the road. The distance alone convinced Alucius that
they had been dispatched to kill him.

Despite
his efforts to remain calm, he could feel a slow rage building. He wasn’t
trying to hurt anyone. He had done his best to do his duty and protect his land
and his family—and yet people kept trying to kill him—and he still didn’t know
who or why, although he had his suspicions that Colonel Weslyn wasn’t exactly
innocent—and that some traders who had been members of the disbanded Council
might be involved. But his suspicions were only that.

For
a time, he just watched the men who watched the road.

He
could ride around them, and they would never know. And he didn’t know that they
were out to kill him—not absolutely. From their weapons, and the carefully
chosen position with a clear line of fire across the high road, there was no
doubt that they intended to kill someone. Their clothing, their “Talent-feel”
indicated to Alucius that they were not troopers, but hired bravos.

Finally,
he began to ease downhill, as quietly as possible, until he was less than a
hundred yards away, just a few yards higher than they were, but on the
adjoining hill. He studied the bravos again, noting the one on the end, who
appeared to be in charge. Then, he lifted his rifle.

Crack!

The
head bravo dropped.

Alucius
continued to fire, deliberately, until he emptied the magazine of the first
rifle. Then he picked up the second and continued.

When
it was empty, there were three bravos alive and scrambling toward cover.

Alucius
reloaded both rifles, then cast out his Talent-senses. One of the bravos had
edged northward and was running to his mount. The other two would have had to
circle or to cross open ground to reach their mounts.

Ignoring
the departing rider, about whom he could do nothing, since the man was not in
clear rifle-shot range and beyond the reach of Alucius’s Talent, Alucius waited
for a moment, then another. He could sense that the bravo who had escaped was
riding due east, straight toward the other group of bravos, and that meant
Alucius couldn’t afford to stay where he was very long at all.

As
he was debating whether he should withdraw immediately, one of the bravos tried
a dash for his mount.

Alucius
dropped him in two shots.

The
other began to circle eastward. Alucius immediately retreated back up the hill,
then down toward the cluster of junipers where he had tied Wildebeast.

Once
there, he reloaded both rifles and scanned the area with his Talent.

Someone
with the bravos was a good tracker, because Alucius could tell that they were
following the general path he had, and that certainly meant that they were
following him. He glanced around the hillside, but the cluster of junipers
where he stood provided the best cover. Wildebeast had already carried him
nearly twenty vingts, and Alucius doubted that his mount, strong as he was,
could give him that much of a lead over more than ten men on fresher mounts
chasing him.

Alucius
dropped behind the junipers, settling behind the one that gave him the best
view of the approach from below, and waited. Farther to the north, Wildebeast
remained, tethered and quiet.

Good
sense would have dictated that he should have just avoided the bravos and
ridden on, but his feelings had told him that so-called good sense wouldn’t
work. Good sense had told him, back in training years before, to avoid Dolesy.
That hadn’t worked, either, and in the end, he’d had to fight. His feelings had
told him that it was better to fight when he had an edge than when he was
caught unaware.

Before
long, in less than a tenth of a glass, below him, Alucius could hear mounts—and
voices—if barely.

“…why
we doing this…killed eight…”

“…ten
golds a man…that’s why…and because, we don’t get him…who hires us?”

Ten
golds a man? That was more than a trooper made in two years. Alucius swallowed
and continued to wait, lying behind the thick trunk of the ancient juniper.

“…quiet…can’t
be too much farther…Sylor…ease out to the left…”

While
Alucius could have shot the bravo who had been ordered out ahead, he did not,
but waited, and before long, he could see—as well as sense—the first four men
in the rough column that followed his tracks uphill.

He
waited a bit longer, then lifted the rifle.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Frig!”

The
riders retreated back into cover behind the scattered pines and junipers, and
Alucius quickly reloaded. He had killed two of the attackers, and wounded the
third, gravely. But he had less than twenty cartridges left for something like
ten bravos.

He
could sense conversations from below, and feel as the attackers split into
three groups.

Three
separate groups burst from behind copses of pines, spurring their mounts up the
gentle slope.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Alucius
fired at the center group, the one slightly ahead of the others, then when he’d
emptied his first rifle, turned to the one on the right—to the west.

He’d
fired four more shots when splinters cascaded across his face, momentarily
blocking his vision.

Then
his whole body was yanked sideways, and pain flared up his left leg.

Somehow,
he managed to roll to the right enough to avoid being hit again, but for
several moments, he could not see, both from the wood splinters and the intense
watering of his eyes. Lying flat, he fumbled more cartridges into the rifle he
held, trying to blink away the involuntary tears.

Thunk!
Another bullet plowed into the juniper above him.

Eeeiiee!

Alucius
winced at the scream from Wildebeast, sensing his mount dying under a flurry of
bullets. He moistened his dry mouth and finally was able to clear his eyes.

From
what he could see and sense, beyond the throbbing agony in his leg and left
side, there were still five bravos—three behind a pine to the east, slightly
above him, and two others, below and to his right.

“…keep
firing…can’t have many cartridges left…”

“…earn
those golds today…”

Alucius
forced his concentration onto the those behind the pine, easing his rifle
around and waiting.

It
felt like he had waited a quarter glass or more when one looked up.

Crack! Crack!

The
red-washed dark void that passed Alucius confirmed that death, and that left
four.

Thunk!
More splinters cascaded down, but not into
Alucius’s eyes.

He
turned back to the two behind the pine, almost willing one to move.

Time
passed, and then a bravo lurched sideways—enough. Still it took two shots
Alucius reloaded…too slowly.