Scepters (38 page)

Feran
stood. “Let’s go.”

The
two started with Egyl, and then Alucius just stood at the edge of the line of
bedrolls and used his Talent to dissolve the purplish mist around each man,
while the squad leader quietly explained.

Then
he eased downhill with Faisyn and Fifth Company’s first squad.

“They’ll
be coming up on both sides of the path, on foot,” Alucius whispered to Faisyn. “We
want to hold fire until they’re close.”

“We
can do that.”

While
Alucius stationed himself in a prone position, with two of the lancers abreast
the path, Faisyn slipped from one lancer to the next, whispering the
instructions.

Second
squad arrived before Faisyn returned, and Alucius passed on the orders. Those
hadn’t reached every lancer when figures began to appear below them. No more
than twenty rebels in dark tunics and trousers eased up the hillside in
silence, slipping from juniper to juniper.

Alucius
forced himself to wait until the first man was less than twenty yards away.

He
squeezed the trigger and ordered, “Now! Fire! Fire at will.”

The
hillside flared into fire.

Almost
half the attackers went down under the first few volleys, but a number of them
struggled to reach rifles or blades even as they were dying. Some crawled
forward, others struggled with weapons suddenly too heavy to lift.

Alucius
kept shooting. Anyone who looked to be possibly dangerous, already wounded or
not, was a target.

Within
half a glass, the hillside below was quiet once more.

Alucius
reached out with his Talent, trying to determine whether another attack was
likely, but from what he could sense, there was no one alive on the road below,
except for perhaps a squad of riders a half vingt south, heading at a quick
trot down the dirt road away from Alucius and in the general direction of the
rebel encampment.

“Faisyn…
if you’d hold first squad in readiness for a bit longer.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
eased himself up into a sitting position and then stood, looking for Feran and
finding the older officer twenty yards to the west. He walked toward Feran.

“Didn’t
lose anyone here,” Feran said.

“I
worry about the sentries.”

“So
do I. Sent Egyl and fourth squad to check on them.” Feran coughed. “Frigging
sleep spell… slimy bastard…”

“It
wasn’t exactly a spell…”

“Same
thing, no matter what you call it.”

Alucius
shrugged. In practical terms, Feran was right. He glanced uphill, where, with
the deaths of the attackers and the departure of the prophet or whoever had
used Talent to create the stuporous sleep, the purplish sleep miasma began to
dissipate, and the more normal sounds of a camp rustled through the night.

Feran
stood and stretched. “Do you think… ?”

“They’re
gone. You can have them stand down, except for first squad, say for another
half glass. If we don’t hear or sense anything, they can turn back in then,
too.”

“I’ll
let them know. Egyl’s checking on the sentries.”

No
sooner had Feran left than Jultyr was beside Alucius. “Sir… thought I heard
shots… said you were down here.”

“You
did. The rebels tried another attack. Fifth Company drove them back.”

Jultyr
yawned. “Never… slept through firefight before…”

“We
might have had some help. Everyone was sleepy.”

“Talent?”
asked the older captain.

“I
think so.”

“Sneaky
bastards… tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

Both
officers turned at the footsteps nearing.

Egyl
walked slowly out of the gloom and shadows of the scattered junipers toward
Alucius. “We lost the outer sentries. They slit their throats. All four of
them.”

“The
others?”

“No,
sir. They’re sleepy, still. Should be all right.”

“We
won’t post any more that far out. Not tonight.”

“Yes,
sir.” Egyl slipped uphill.

Jultyr
looked at Alucius. “Never fought anything like this.”

“I
don’t know that anyone has.” Alucius bent and lifted his rifles, carrying one
in each hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes,
sir.”

As
he eased away from Jultyr, trying to find a little space to think, Alucius
tried to consider what had happened and what he had planned. Should he still
order the attack at dawn? The question was whether to attack immediately… or to
wait.

Alucius
had never liked waiting, but he had to wonder if the commander of the rebels
had wagered on that. Then, if he didn’t attack, how many more men would he lose
to something like the sleep compulsion? And how much rest would he and everyone
else lose trying to make sure they weren’t surprised again?

For
better or worse, he would attack in the morning.

Alucius
hadn’t slept that well when he heard the voice. “Sir? It’s two glasses before
dawn.”

“Thank
you.” He rolled out of his bedroll tiredly, then eased on his boots. After a
time, he slowly stood, yawning. The night had been all too short, but unless
they stopped the prophet Adarat, every night could be like the last—and some
night he’d be too tired to protect his men… or himself.

After
washing up with the water in the bucket that he’d gotten the night before, he
pulled himself together for the day ahead, finishing up rolling up blankets and
bedroll and walking to the tielines. There he saddled the gray and strapped his
gear in place. He went over both rifles, making sure they were fully loaded.
Finally, before mounting, he checked to make sure the nightsilk skull mask that
he had not used in years was safely well inside his undergarments. It wasn’t
something he wore often, and almost never when leading lancers, but it had
proven useful in cold weather and on solo scouting missions… and upon a few
other occasions.

Then
he mounted and rode slowly down the gentler section of the hillside to the flat
bottom between hills that held the rutted dirt road where the three companies
were forming up in the predawn darkness. In the gloom on the west side of the
road, amid the scent of dust and cedars, he listened as lancers and their
mounts made their way into formation.

“…
hate early rides…”

“You
hate all rides, Bakka…”

“…
friggin’ long night… now we’re supposed to fight?”

“…
we don’t fight, and you’ll have more long nights…”

“Almost
wish we were freezing our butts around Harmony.”

“Not
me. Matrites can shoot better.”

“…
take shots any day to this Talent crap…”

“…
rebels are scary… not all there…”

“…
better that than Matrites who are all there.”

Alucius
just hoped that lancer was correct. When he sensed Feran moving to the head of
the column, he eased the gelding from the shadows and toward the overcaptain. “Good
morning.”

“It’s
not morning yet, and its not that good… sir,” Feran said, his voice cheerful
even though his words were not.

“We
have some problems you haven’t told me?”

“Besides
last night? Not yet.” Feran chuckled mournfully. “You know how much I like
mornings, and this is before morning. I’m not a herder. I left the family
holding just so I didn’t have to get up before the sun.”

“It’ll
be up in a glass or so.”

“More
like two. This is
night
, not morning. I can’t see in
the dark the way you herders can.”

Even
as Alucius laughed at Feran’s mournful tone, he wondered what it would be like
for night to be a barrier to seeing. He only experienced something like that a
few times, in caves or ruins where there was absolutely no light. He turned the
gray as a lancer rode along the shoulder of the road from the north.

“Majer,
sir?”

“Here.”

“Captain
Jultyr reports that Thirty-fifth Company is present and accounted for and ready
to go, sir.”

“Thank
you. Tell the captain that we’ll be riding shortly.”

“Yes,
sir.”

As
the lancer turned his mount, Feran coughed, then said, “Fifth Company is ready,
sir. Should have reported that earlier.”

“You’re
always ready.”

“With
you, Majer, it pays.”

The
two waited, their mounts in the road just south of where Fifth Company had
formed, waiting for the report from Twenty-eighth Company. It felt as though a
quarter glass had gone by before a squad leader appeared out of the gloom, but
Alucius knew that far less time had passed.

“Twenty-eighth
Company, present and accounted for.”

“Thank
you. We’ll be departing momentarily.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
turned to Feran. “Column, forward!”

The
order echoed through the darkness. As the words died away, the sound of hoofs
on hard dirt replaced them, and the three companies began to ride southward.

They
covered almost three vingts before the darkness began to lighten, with the hint
of gray rising above the low hills just to the east of the road. Along the way,
Alucius munched some travel bread and cheese, washing it down with water. He
could tell that a number of the Fifth Company lancers did as well.

“What
are you going to do about the spiky thornbush?” asked Feran.

“Nothing.
Not unless I have to. I don’t think they’ll be expecting a dawn attack. Except
for setting those fires, we haven’t made a single attack, and we haven’t been
moving near Hyalt this early. Also, they don’t seem to be very alert. If the
gates are still open, I’m going to take out the sentries, and we’ll just ride
in. If they’ve actually closed the gates, then we’ll set a few fires, and ride
around the walls and then in.”

“You
really don’t think they’ll have the walls heavily guarded, do you?” asked
Feran.

“One
of the failures of great power is that you can rely on it too much.”

“You’re
being mysterious again.”

“When
I was first a scout, I was assigned to an older scout. He wasn’t a herder. He
didn’t have the faintest trace of Talent. He was one of the best scouts I ever
knew, far better than I was. He looked at everything and fit it together. That’s
the problem with relying on Talent alone. This prophet is relying on Talent,
and he has no real regard for his lancers. You can tell that by the way he
spends them. The gates were loosely guarded the first time we scouted them, and
that was after they knew we were here. They won’t be that well guarded today,”
Alucius predicted.

“I
hope you’re right.”

Alucius
wasn’t sure what he hoped, because lightly guarded gates meant a confidence in
some other power, presumably great power, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to
face that kind of power.

Another
half vingt passed, and the sky lightened further, enough to see the recent
hoofprints in the dust, prints only from the night before, Alucius judged.
Then, they reached the last turn in the narrow road before it headed due west
toward the rebel camp.

“Column,
halt!”

Once
the force halted, Alucius ordered, “Ready rifles. Silent riding.”

Then
the files split, one on each shoulder of the road, leaving the center open.

They
rode another vingt before halting. The lead riders of each file stopped short
of the last cover before the open meadow in front of the entry road and gates
that lay open two hundred yards away.

Feran
looked across the open road to Alucius.

Alucius
looked back over his shoulder, waiting. He pointed to the east.

Feran
nodded, and they waited until the orange-white light of the sun spilled over
the horizon, then above the low eastern hills, flat and directly into the eyes
of the sentry, if the man was even looking eastward.

Alucius
eased the gray forward until he was barely clear of the squat cedar that was
one of the last before the open space in front of the walls. He halted the
gelding and, raising his rifle, using sight and Talent, took aim on the rebel
guard in the boxlike sentry post by the gate.

Crack!

The
rebel slumped from sight.

With
the single shot as the signal, without a word, Fifth Company led the way—not a
charge, but a mounted fast walk, up the narrow road and across the open space
short of the palisades. The other two companies followed.

Beyond
the palisades and the gates, a dark purpleness slumbered, silent and present,
but not so much waiting, as just
there
. Alucius held
his Talent and his rifle ready as he led the force across the meadow toward the
open gates. With his Talent, he could sense only one other form near the gates,
and that rebel was sleeping in the other sentry guard box. Alucius kept his
attention focused on the sleeping rebel, as well as on the road past the open
gates and into the encampment.

Step
by step, the mounts and the lancers they carried neared the gate. They were
less than twenty yards from the gates when the sleeping sentry bolted upright.

Alucius
had been waiting. His first shot went into the sentry’s shoulder, and the
second into the man’s chest. The striker in the sentry’s hand made a muted
clang
as it struck the watch bell.

“Column,
forward!” Alucius snapped, urging the gelding forward toward the still-open
gates.

Fifth
Company responded, and after several moments, so did the other two companies.

As
he rode inside the now-unguarded gates, Alucius kept scanning for defenders,
but he could neither see nor sense any at the palisades. So he continued to
ride, with Fifth Company immediately behind him, up the gentle slope of the
road to the upper level, where the barracks and stables were—on the flat just
east of the temple carved out of the bluff.

As
he rode over the low crest of the approach road and onto the flat, Alucius
studied the one-story barracks—two unpainted, plank-sided dwellings, each fifty
yards long and ten wide, each with a roof sloped down from a high rear wall to
a lower front wall. The handful of windows had shutters, also unpainted, but no
glass.