Darknesses (51 page)

“Circle
uphill…” someone called. “Keep low. You can fire down on him.”

The
remaining bravo from the two at the pine began to move, keeping very low,
especially his head. Alucius couldn’t get a clear shot, but he kept watching,
moving his rifle, and waiting for an opening.

Another
shot shook the tree, and scraps of juniper rained down on Alucius.

With
the shot, the uphill bravo scrambled across an open space.

Alucius
fired, once, twice, before his third shot caught the man in the leg. As the bravo
twisted, involuntarily, Alucius’s fourth shot caught him in the chest.

Alucius
reloaded—as much as he could—and that left him with three cartridges and two
bravos.

“Now!”
came a voice.

From
somewhere another bravo appeared, mounted, and using the horse as a shield,
moved toward Alucius.

Much
as he hated to, Alucius brought down the horse with a single shot, but it took
two more to get the rider.

So
far as Alucius could tell, there was but a single bravo remaining.
Unfortunately, Alucius had no ammunition left, and his left side was a mass of
pain. His head throbbed.

Thunk! Thunk!
As the bullets hit the tree above him—barely
above his head—more juniper greenery and splinters cascaded around Alucius.

The
remaining bravo had ammunition, and sooner, or later, he couldn’t help but get
Alucius, unless…

Another
bullet flew within a span of Alucius’s head.

With
a last desperate effort, Alucius extended a thin Talent-probe, snaking it
across the fifty yards or more between him and the man, trying to hold it, trying
to use skill, rather than force. Everything wavered before his eyes, and he
could barely sense the other. He struggled to reach the man’s main lifethread
node, trying to find and unlock that node.

Alucius
felt the sickening twist, and then a snap of Talent-energy—followed by a wave
of blackness that swept over him. Just blackness, without a hint of green.

Caawww…caawww…

Something
jabbed at Alucius’s outstretched hand. He tried to move it, and another wave of
pain swept over him. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A yard beyond his hand, a crow
looked at him, then took a hop and flew away.

“Not…ready…for
you…yet…” Alucius dragged himself out from under the juniper and toward
Wildebeast. Flies were already settling onto his dead mount. He swallowed.
Wildebeast had carried him from Madrien to Deforya to Lanachrona and back, and
through the bloodiest of battles—and he’d died from bravos’ bullets in an
ambush. Because Alucius had been a proud fool, thinking he was invulnerable.

After
a moment, Alucius glanced from the dead—and faithful—stallion to the sun, now
but a span above the western horizon. He doubted he could walk, and he didn’t
have a mount.

Despite
the headache he had, he cast out his Talent-sense…hoping to find one of the
bravo’s horses. He could sense two.

He
tried to Talent-project the sense of feed, of grain and water.

After
a time, both horses began to move.

The
sun was almost touching the horizon by the time he managed to entice one close
enough to grab the stirrup and lever himself up, then climb and crawl into the
saddle, all the time using Talent to reassure the mare. His left leg was still
totally numb.

Then
he urged the mount northward.

He
just hoped he could last until he could make Sudon Post—or the road to it.

He
didn’t remember much of the ride, just the growing darkness.

At
some point, he heard someone talking, and he forced himself to concentrate.

“Sir…sir?”

A
young face in a Northern Guard uniform looked out of a circle of darkness at
him.

“Brigands…”
Alucius managed. “In the hills…off high road…south of the Sudon crossroad…”

The
sentry looked up at the overcaptain.

Alucius
tried to hang on, but, once more, blackness swept over him.

F
or
glasses
—or days—Alucius could not tell which—he wandered through a
darkness of pain. He thought he had been fed and talked to people, but he could
not recall what he had eaten or to whom he had talked.

Then,
almost suddenly, he found himself aware of lying in a bed.

A
senior squad leader looked down at Alucius. “How do you feel, sir?”

Alucius
looked up. “Like my left side’s on fire.” He should have recognized the squad
leader, but his eyes blurred, and his head throbbed.

“We
found the brigands—Dekhron bravos—and your mount, Overcaptain.” There was a
pause. “Was there anyone with you, sir?”

“No…was
heading home.”

“You’ll
be here for a bit.”

“How…my
leg?”

“You’ve
been here almost three days. You were hit in the thigh, twice, and in the ribs.
The nightsilk stopped the bullets, but the healer says that you’ve got a
cracked rib, maybe two, and there’s not a place below your shoulder on the left
that’s without bruising.”

Alucius
finally recognized the squad leader, the man who had trained him years before.
“You’re still here, Estepp?”

“I
went out for a tour, and they sent me back here. Got here a month ago.” The older
man laughed. “It had to be you, Overcaptain. You know that you killed
twenty-one of them? One of ’em, we can’t figure out. Not a mark on him. Could
be you scared him to death.”

“I
don’t know.” Alucius didn’t try to shake his head. He knew any movement would
hurt.

“Hope
you don’t mind, but I did tell some of the trainees about you. Too good a story
to waste. Officer’s been released, but he can’t let go of duty and takes on
more than twenty bravos to keep some innocent from being killed. We had to
report it to headquarters. Got a message back this afternoon from the
commandant. They added the Commandant’s Star to your other awards, sir.”

“I’m
so pleased,” Alucius said dryly. “I just wanted to get home.”

Estepp
smiled. “For a man who never wanted to be a trooper, sir, you’ve done more than
any officer in generations.”

“Maybe…because
I didn’t want to…”

“You
may not want to be one, sir, but you’re a trooper officer at heart, just like
your grandsire.” Estepp paused. “Need to check on the trainees, sir.”

“Go
ahead. I need the rest.”

Estepp
eased back, and the door closed.

As
Alucius lay there in the darkness in what he realized were senior officers’
quarters, thoughts circled through his mind.

The
would-be assassins still bothered him. He’d seen deeply enough into the
Lord-Protector, and the man would not have acted so. Nor was it likely that
Waleryn could have organized such an attack and gotten word to Dekhron quickly
enough.

The
colonel? Weslyn was a possibility…but the man didn’t operate that way. He might
order—and had ordered—Alucius into situations where he might be killed, but
Weslyn lacked the courage to act directly.

But
someone had. Alucius just didn’t know who it could be—or why.

He
could feel his eyelids closing.

A
week later,
in late afternoon,
Alucius rode through the square in Iron Stem at the head of a column of
replacement troopers, roughly a squad’s worth, headed northward to Soulend. He
rode upon the best mount gleaned from those of the bravos captured by the
Northern Guard, a gray stallion, not quite so spirited as Wildebeast, but
solid. Alucius did not stop at the cooperage, since his Talent told him that
Wendra was not there. He had not expected she would be at her father’s, but he
had checked as he neared the square.

Both
Estepp and Overcaptain Culyn—the head of the training post at Sudon—had
insisted that he accompany the detachment. Since his left side was yellow and
purple and sore all over, Alucius did not stand on pride but accepted the
offer. Parts of Alucius’s left thigh and chest remained numb. He could barely
move his left arm, and his fingers tingled on occasion. His Talent told him
that it would be some time before the injuries healed completely.

“Your
place is north of town, sir?” asked Zearyt, the squad leader who would be
taking over the fourth squad of Twelfth Company.

“Almost
ten vingts north,” Alucius confirmed. “You don’t need to escort me—”

“Sir…if
I didn’t see you to your door, both Estepp and Overcaptain Culyn would have my
head, and there wouldn’t be enough left of me for a banner to fly against the
Matrites.” Zearyt grinned, an expression between rue and pleasure at being able
to insist. “Besides…most of us would like to see your stead, if you don’t
mind.”

“It’s
really not mine, yet. My grandsire and mother are still there. And my wife.”

“She
a herder, too?”

Alucius
knew what Zearyt meant. “Yes. She takes the flock often.”

The
squad leader shook his head. “Only seen nightsheep up close a few times.
Wouldn’t want to get that close. True that they can gut a sandwolf?”

“One-on-one,
a nightram can. But the sandwolves try for ewes or lambs that are stragglers.”

As
he rode past the green tower just north of the pleasure palace, Alucius was
reminded of the towers in Dereka and Tempre—and of the alabaster-skinned
ifrits. He shifted his weight in the saddle, hoping he had seen the last of
them—either with his eyes or his Talent. He couldn’t say he’d been pleased with
what he’d learned, but some of the hints had always been there—like the leschec
board and game pieces—green and black, the twinned colors of life. And that the
pteridons had left no remains when they burned—that had been another hint. Yet
who could have guessed what they had really meant?

The
other thing that both bothered and pleased him was that, after the last attack,
he had not sensed the green radiance of soarers. Had the soarers done all they
could? Had they abandoned him? Or were they merely seeing if he could survive
without their aid? He had done that, but it had been a close thing—closer than
Alucius would have liked.

Alucius
smiled faintly, to himself, then frowned as the voices rose behind him as they
neared the dustcat works. All through the trip, there had been murmurs from the
raw troopers in the column, but, for the most part, Alucius had ignored them.
Sometimes, it was hard.

“Still…looks
so young for an overcaptain…”

“…hear
what he’s been through…rather be a ranker…”

“…where
he started…years back…”

“Estepp
said he’d been left for dead something like four times…Star of Gallantry from
Deforya, Star of Honor from the Lord-Protector, and Commandant’s Star…”

“…don’t
give those unless you die…or come so close you might as well have…”

Unhappily,
Alucius reflected, the young ranker was right. Alucius had come close enough to
dying even more times than anyone knew—or would—except for his family.

“…killed
twenty brigands by himself…still hard to believe…”

“…twenty-one…was
on the detail that brought in the bodies…killed his mount…”

At
the thought of Wildebeast, Alucius winced. The stallion had deserved better,
but Alucius wasn’t certain what else he could have done—not after he’d made the
initial stupid decision to take on the bravos.

Yet…had
it been stupid? Or had his tactics just been stupid, relying once more on what
amounted to brute force? The soarer had tried to teach him, but he still hadn’t
learned to apply the lesson on a wider scale.

The
sun was low in the west when they neared the turnoff to the stead, and Alucius
was all too aware of the aches in his ribs and leg.

“The
lane on the right, half vingt ahead,” he said quietly.

“You’re
far out here, sir. Nothing much in sight,” observed Zearyt.

“That’s
the way with most steads,” replied Alucius.

When
they neared the stead, Alucius could see two figures, waiting on the porch—his
mother and Wendra. That Royalt was not there indicated that he was still out
with the nightsheep.

As
he neared the dwelling, Alucius reached out to Wendra with his Talent, then
paused. She was no longer black, shot with green, but her lifethread and being
was green, with but a handful of black threads. Alucius smiled.

Her
smile was like brilliant sun after a cold winter.

Followed
by the troopers, Alucius rode to the porch, where he dismounted stiffly, then
turned. “I thank you all.”

Wendra
stepped down from the porch and put her hand over his. Even without turning,
Alucius could feel the meldinglike feel as their lifethreads brushed.

“We
thank you, as well,” Wendra said from where she stood a step above Alucius,
offering a warm smile.

“We
thought he deserved an escort, madame.” Zearyt bowed in the saddle. “Not that
often that the Iron Valleys have an officer wins the stars of three lands.” He
turned to Alucius. “A pleasure, sir, and we’ll be departing.”

“You
can’t stay here this evening?” asked Wendra.

“That
we’d wish, but orders are orders, and we need to make the way station tonight.”

Wendra
surveyed the column. “Let us at least send a full cooked shoulder with you, for
when you do stop.”

Zearyt
smiled. “Now…I can’t say that’d be against orders.”

Alucius
smothered a grin and let Wendra work, his right hand on the railing of the
steps to the porch.

In
the end, half a glass later, his escorts left with enough fresh-cooked food to
feed the entire squad, and with smiles upon more than a few faces.

Wendra
stepped up to him. Her fingers touched his cheeks. “I’ve been so worried.” She
leaned forward, ever so gently, and kissed him.

For
that moment, the warmth and the welcome drove away all the numbness and pain.

Wendra
stepped back. “We need to get you off your feet.”

“I’ll
unsaddle your mount,” Lucenda said.

“I
can—”

“You’ll
do no such thing,” Wendra said. “I saw you dismount, and I can feel how much it
hurts, and how you can barely stand. We’re getting you up and into a
comfortable chair—if not bed.”

“Just
the chair,” Alucius conceded. He surrendered the gray’s reins to his mother.

“He
is hurt,” Lucenda said dryly. She looked to her son, inquiringly.

“Two
cracked ribs, and more than a few bruises.”

“You’ll
tell us once your grandsire arrives?”

“Everything.”
Alucius knew he had little choice, not between Wendra and his grandsire.

“Do
you need—”

“I
can manage.”

“He’s
still as stubborn as ever,” Lucenda said.

“Not
quite,” Alucius retorted.

Once
Alucius was inside, Wendra hurried ahead and dragged the armchair from the main
room to the archway into the kitchen. “Sit.”

Alucius
eased himself into the chair and found her bending down and kissing him,
gently, but warmly.

“I
would have hugged you, but that would have hurt more than it helped,” she said
softly. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“So
am I. So am I.”

She
gave him another kiss before straightening. “I’ll get you some ale, and you can
just sit there and sip it while I finish supper. I’ll tell you what’s happened
here. Your mother and grandsire know that, and whatever you tell me you’d just
have to tell them again.”

Alucius
laughed and waited for the ale. After Wendra set the beaker in his right hand,
he smiled and asked, “What happened? You met a soarer, didn’t you?”

“So
did you, didn’t you?”

“Takes
one to know one.” Alucius grinned, enjoying the warmth and affection radiating
from her. “Did you tell Grandsire…or Mother?”

“Your
grandsire knows, I think. I didn’t say anything. It…she taught me how to wrap
the darkness around cartridges.”

“She
taught you more than that—or you’ve learned more than that.”

“It
frightened me. So I tried to make sense of it.” Wendra glanced toward the door.

Lucenda
entered the kitchen, glanced at Alucius, and nodded. “Left your saddlebags in
the foyer. You lost Wildebeast?”

“He
was killed in the attack on the way home,” Alucius replied. “I’ll tell you all
about it, once Grandsire gets here.”

“It
won’t be long. He’s on the lower slope of Westridge now.” Lucenda surveyed her
son. “You look better already. Not all that good, but better.”

“You’ve
always had a way with compliments, Mother.”

Wendra
laughed.

After
a moment, so did Lucenda, before she turned to Wendra. “What can I do?”

“If
you’d do the potatoes…”

Alucius
set the ale on the table and stood.

Both
women looked at him.

“I’d
just like to wash up…and take care of a few things. It was a long ride.”

He
headed for the washroom, knowing he’d have little peace once his grandfather
arrived—not until he’d told everything.