The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  As he took the back lane leading to the stone house west of the overgrown forest and Vortaan’s stead, he kept sensing for any hint of riders. He found none, even when he crossed the rocky grasslands and reached the back path that paralleled the hills and led to the encampment where he’d been before. There were no hoofprints on the path, suggesting that the Hydlenese had moved. When he turned onto the second narrow road, he still could sense no one at the old stead. Not only was the stead empty, but it looked as though the buildings had been stripped of anything of any value well before the attack on twoday.

  Beltur decided to follow the lane that led farther westward from the stead. He’d only ridden a few hundred yards from the wooden posts marking the entry when the narrow dirt track joined a wider road, a road which bore a myriad of recent hoofprints. Beltur followed the tracks along a wide curve that circled a hill bearing largely neglected pearapple trees and an abandoned cot with a caved-in roof. On the far side of the hill the road straightened, heading west-northwest toward, Beltur thought, the main road to Hydolar.

  Early as it was in the day, Beltur was already blotting his forehead where the sweat oozed from under his visor cap. That wasn’t exactly a surprise, given that the beginning of summer was only six days away.

  Less than a kay from the now-abandoned stead, he began to get the feeling of more men and horses gathered together, most likely two kays ahead. He also sensed scouts posted on the hills overlooking the road less than a kay from him, suggesting that he was nearing a larger encampment. Or that whoever’s in command wants to avoid a surprise attack.

  Reluctantly, he created a concealment around himself and Slowpoke. Because the road was fairly level, Slowpoke could maintain the same steady walk, a pace that didn’t raise dust behind him, especially since the ground hadn’t dried out that much since the rain. As he neared the first of the lookouts on the hills, he began to sense riders coming toward the encampment from the southwest, possibly from the Hydolar road. He could also tell that, once again, the Hydlenese had taken over a stead, but one larger and with more outbuildings than the one that they had abandoned and stripped.

  A hundred yards or so short of the wooden posts that marked the beginning of the lane to the buildings of the stead, Beltur eased Slowpoke to the shoulder of the road so that he could study the stead and where buildings, mounts, and troopers were … as well as try to determine just how many troopers there might be. Given how long he’d ridden and how hot he was, he took out one of his water bottles and uncorked it, then slowly and carefully took several long swallows before replacing it in its leather holder.

  He sensed a squad or so of troopers approaching the lane and the pair of mounted sentries posted there and kept track of the squad from there until the troopers reined up short of a large building, most likely a barn that had been turned into a stable.

  What can you do that they won’t expect? He needed to do something that would disrupt the encampment, and that would allow him to target at least an officer or two, since there was no way for him to determine, not by sensing, which trooper might be an officer or a squad leader—except when they were in formation, and no one in the encampment was in formation at the moment.

  Then he nodded and guided Slowpoke along the road toward the sentries until he found a break in the low stone wall. He had to dismount to lead the gelding through the opening, but the ground beyond was level enough that he could mount, which he did. It took him more than a quint to cover the more than a hundred yards necessary to get close enough to the barn for what he had in mind.

  When he was only about fifteen yards from the east side of the barn—the side away from the other buildings in the stead—Beltur reined up. That wall was also just planked, with no doors, except a narrow one near the south end. He began to draw free chaos together, very carefully, always keeping it separated from him with order. He didn’t want to use a chaos bolt, although he could have managed a small one, painful as it would have been, but he needed chaos strong enough that the wood would catch fire instantly and strongly.

  He eased the chaos into position in two places separated by more than five yards, then removed the order. In instants, the old wood burst into flame, and in moments the two fires were more than respectable. Setting fire to a barn with horses inside was one of the last things Beltur wanted to do, but sometimes, fire was necessary to fight fire.

  Even using that small amount of chaos made him uneasy, although he didn’t have a headache. Not yet, anyway.

  Then he moved Slowpoke back another ten yards before moving westward some, so that he’d be closer to any officers or squad leaders who might come from the stead house to take charge of the firefighting or the evacuation of the horses.

  Almost a fifth of a quint passed before the smoke and flames caught someone’s attention.

  “Fire! Fire in the barn!”

  “Get the horses out!”

  From seemingly everywhere, troopers began to run toward the barn, but Beltur concentrated on the stead house. Several figures moved from the side porch, and one gestured to the other. Beltur couldn’t make out what was said, but he had the feeling that the one receiving the gestures was a junior officer. Beltur also sensed another figure still standing on the porch, but only watching. He smiled under the concealment and eased Slowpoke closer to the porch, close enough to place a containment around the neck of the man standing there, and twist and close it fast enough to crush his windpipe.

  Should you do more?

  Beltur shifted his attention, but, by then, he couldn’t tell which of the figures around the barn and the fire were troopers and which officers. You should have taken out the one giving orders first, and then the one on the porch.

  He still didn’t want to start killing rank-and-file troopers—except in an actual fight. Not yet, anyway. So he turned Slowpoke away from the fire and milling troopers, noting that it seemed as though the troopers were getting the horses away from the fire in a mostly orderly fashion.

  By the time he had retraced his path to where he was able to drop the concealment, he definitely had a headache, but finishing off the first bottle of ale reduced the throbbing feeling to more like a faint ache. He frowned as he considered. He’d done much more, and often, without getting a headache. Had gathering that comparatively small amount of chaos made the difference? He’d definitely have to watch that. He’d need all the strength he could muster against the Hydlenese.

  When he finally reached the square and reined up at the healing house, after stopping briefly at the fountain to water Slowpoke, it was almost a glass past midday.

  Jessyla hurried out to meet him. “I’ve been worried. You don’t usually take that long.”

  “I went almost ten kays out. The Hydlenese have more troopers and have taken over another stead, closer to the road to Hydolar.” Beltur dismounted and stretched. “There haven’t been any more raids here, have there?”

  She shook her head. “It’s been quiet. Too quiet … well, except for the boy that the pig bit. There was more wound chaos, but I got rid of everything I could sense. I think he’ll be all right.”

  “It may not be quiet around here tomorrow. I’ll tell you why, and then I’d better tell Lhadoraak. I made things a little warmer for the Hydlenese…” He continued to explain as he followed Jessyla into the shade of the healing house, trying to explain quickly because he didn’t want to leave Slowpoke tied up for long. The gelding needed food … and rest. So did Beltur, but he could wait.

  XXXVI

  Threeday’s damp heat gave way to a much cooler fourday, with a drizzling rain that intermittently paused and then resumed. On fiveday, the drizzle turned into a steady downpour. Since rain reduced Beltur’s abilities with magery, if not nearly so much as it would have if he’d remained a white, he decided against any lengthy recon rides, and certainly not any attempts at ambushing Hydlenese officers.

  Sixday was cloudy without rain, and Beltur and Lhadoraak posted Ruell and Waerdyn as scouts, Waerdyn to the west
, Ruell to the east. Neither saw any signs of riders, nor did Beltur sense anyone on the roads or near them except people who were clearly from Haven or nearby. Since Gustaan and Turlow weren’t needed to deal with the finishing touches on the quarters building, they’d taken over guarding Graalur, not that the captive had shown much interest in escaping, even though his wound appeared to be healing without untoward wound chaos, at least from what Beltur could tell.

  Late on sixday afternoon, the four councilors and Taelya gathered in the front room of the Council House.

  “Do you think they’ll attack tomorrow?” asked Tulya.

  “The back roads are still sloppy,” said Lhadoraak. “They might raid a stead, but I’d be surprised if they attacked with a full company. Eightday’s more likely, but I’d wager on oneday.”

  “They might try eightday, thinking we wouldn’t expect it,” suggested Jessyla.

  “That’s possible,” said Beltur. “I’d like to know what their reaction was to the fire and to my killing one of their officers.”

  “You have to ask?” replied Lhadoraak. “They’re angry. Some of the more perceptive officers might be afraid, but they can’t admit that. Graalur made it clear that disobedience is as good as death, and that includes officers. They’ll want reinforcements, possibly mages, but they can’t actually ask for them, not when they’re attacking a small town that doesn’t even have regular troopers.”

  “So they’ll keep attacking until we kill too many of them for the Duke or his commanders to ignore, and then they’ll send an army?”

  “They might send another company or two first,” suggested Lhadoraak. “We really haven’t caused them huge losses. What … three officers, a squad leader or two, and a handful or two of troopers out of two companies.”

  “When you put it that way,” said Beltur dryly, “it sounds like we haven’t done much at all.”

  “Well…” Lhadoraak drew out the word. “… we have kept them from taking over Haven, and if you count the squad with the white … then the casualties we’ve—you and Jessyla—inflicted are definitely significant. It depends on how they look at it.”

  “They’ll ignore the loss of the whites and Gustaan’s squad,” declared Jessyla. “Most men would, because they don’t think of outcasts as part of ‘their’ army, even when they didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t think the Hydlenese are any different.”

  “Sometimes, it’s even worse when the outcasts happen to be right,” said Beltur in a deadpan voice. “That has been known to happen.”

  “I wonder where,” said Jessyla ironically.

  “As for tomorrow,” Beltur went on, “I think we should do the same thing as we did today.”

  “It is market day in the afternoon,” Tulya pointed out.

  “I doubt that the Hydlenese know that or care,” answered Jessyla.

  “Most likely not,” agreed Lhadoraak. “We do need to think about what we’ll do when they make an actual attack.”

  “That depends on the attack,” replied Beltur. “What is there to attack? It’s not as though we have a company to stand up to them. If they ride in and do nothing, what do we do? If we start killing them…”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Telling them that they’re not welcome, and that if they stay around they’ll find it very uncomfortable.”

  “And if they insist that they’re staying, then what?”

  “If an officer delivers the ultimatum, ask if he’s an officer, just to make sure. If he is, tell him that if he doesn’t withdraw on the spot, he’ll be killed. If he refuses, kill him.”

  Lhadoraak swallowed.

  “They have to get the point that we’re serious,” replied Beltur. “I don’t like killing troopers. They haven’t much choice. I realize that the officers don’t either, but killing officers has a greater impact, and I’m hoping the total number of troopers killed will be lower. Also, an officer does have a choice. He can remove the troopers. He may face death later, or he can desert, but he has more choices.”

  “Not many,” replied Lhadoraak.

  “Neither do we, and I’m tired of accommodating to other people’s choices, especially when they’re trying to take over land that isn’t theirs in the first place. We accepted the lawful proposal of the lawful ruler. We should have the right to protect ourselves and the town however we can.”

  “They won’t see something like that as fair. Wars aren’t fought that way.”

  “No … the way they’re fought means hundreds or thousands of men will die because of the wishes of a ruler. How is that fair?” countered Beltur.

  Lhadoraak looked to Tulya.

  “I’m afraid he has a point,” she replied. “There might be a very high cost to making that point, however. They might try to burn the entire town in revenge.” She turned to Beltur. “Are you willing to risk that?”

  Would they really do that? He almost nodded in reply to his own question, but stopped, because the nod might have been taken as an answer to Tulya’s question. “I honestly don’t know. I do know that I’m tired of us getting pushed around. I also doubt that killing one officer would result in that kind of action. The second or third time … then it might well do so.”

  “Can you be sure of that?” asked Tulya.

  “No. But I think it might point out to the Hydlenese the cost of their wanting to take over part of Montgren.”

  “We should think this over,” said Jessyla quickly. “At least get some dinner and sleep on it. We’ve discussed the possibilities, and each of us can think about it.”

  Lhadoraak nodded. “That’s better. We’ll have at least until tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

  Tulya nodded quickly.

  Taelya frowned, but said nothing.

  As the five left the healing house, they saw a wagon outside, and Jaegyr standing there, smiling. “I’ve got two benches with pads here, Mages. Thought you’d like to have them soon as you could. Be another eightday or so before the chairs and cushions are ready. If you’re headed home, I’ll follow you.”

  “Even if we weren’t,” said Tulya, “we would be now. The three of us are walking. So why don’t you deliver the one to Beltur and Jessyla first.”

  “I can do that.”

  Jessyla was in the saddle before Beltur, but he refrained from showing the grin he felt—both in relief and in amusement at her reaction to Jaegyr’s appearance.

  Once they were far enough in front of the wagon, Beltur said quietly, “Thank you for suggesting we think things over.”

  “It won’t change the problem.”

  “I know.”

  “No. I meant the problem with Lhadoraak. He’s the same as many blacks. He feels that there’s something wrong if a black does anything but defend. Your suggestion of attacking first bothers him.”

  “Except we’re not attacking first. They’ve attacked first several times.”

  “Beltur … he doesn’t see it that way. He also has a problem with your idea of attacking officers.”

  “Officers shouldn’t be responsible for the orders they carry out?”

  “Most people think that they should only be responsible to higher officers.”

  “Then maybe I should find a way to kill the Duke of Hydlen,” replied Beltur sarcastically.

  “It might have to come to that, you know … if nothing else works. But I wouldn’t mention it to Lhadoraak or Tulya.”

  “You really think so?”

  “If what Graalur said is true … how else can you change things?”

  “The majers and commanders might persuade the Duke that taking Haven isn’t that good an idea.”

  “They might. Anything’s possible.” Jessyla didn’t sound terribly convinced. “You don’t have to decide that now. Besides, I want to see how the bench looks in the house.”

  So did Beltur, and he definitely wanted time to think over Jessyla’s words.

  XXXVII

  Eightday dawned misty, even if there was no actual rain. Since Beltur felt that
the most likely attack would be early, he rode out to the southwest before seventh glass, and after a time, when he found no sign that the Hydlenese were leaving their encampment, he returned to the healing house, where Jessyla wanted him to take another look at Graalur, as much, Beltur suspected, because she worried that no one would have the time on oneday.

  “The arm doesn’t hurt that much,” Graalur declared as he entered the healing house, escorted by both Gustaan and Ruell.

  “That’s good,” said Jessyla, “but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some chaos deeper in the wound.”

  Graalur looked to Jessyla. “You said the other day—”

  “Beltur can sense smaller bits of chaos than I can. That’s why I wanted him to look at it.”

  Graalur shivered. “It feels fine.”

  “They healed all of us when we likely would have died,” said Gustaan.

  “For what?” asked the Hydlenese morosely. “We’re likely to get killed anyway.”

  “I’ve thought that several times in the last season,” replied Gustaan, “but we’re still here and healthy, a lot healthier than we’d be if we’d stayed with the Duke.”

  “For now.”

  “That’s right,” said Gustaan amiably, “but now is all we have, and the mages seem to have a way with things that I’m not certain I’d wager against. If they hadn’t healed me, I’d have died half a season ago. It’s been a good five eightdays.”

  Beltur moved closer to Graalur. “Would you rather that I’d left you in that hamlet?”

  “No, ser. It’s just…” The captive shook his head. “You don’t know the Duke. He’s terrible when he’s angered.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Jessyla.