The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  Since Beltur sensed no one near the houses, he turned Slowpoke north, toward the main street, where he sensed several handfuls of troopers in various places, but all east of him and Jessyla, as if the attackers had realized that the pickings were easier away from where the mages had been. That made Beltur feel slightly guilty. But don’t you have the right to protect those close to you? “They’re all east of here.”

  “Does that really surprise you?” asked Jessyla, with just a tinge of irony in her voice.

  “I suppose not.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “To ride east on the main street, under a concealment until I get close, then charge them with shields extended like narrow blades just above the withers of most horses.”

  “That’s going to be hard on the horses.”

  “What else can I do?” What else will inflict enough death and injury on the Hydlenese to drive them off without killing myself?

  “I didn’t say you had a choice.”

  “They have a choice. They could have not attacked. They could have attacked and left. They haven’t done either.”

  “You killed their commander and squad leaders and some officers, not to mention a lot of troopers. They’re angry.”

  And that means a lot more are going to be dead.

  As they turned east on the main street, Beltur could see thin columns of smoke above and between the scattered trees in yards and gardens ahead, but no actual flames nearby, suggesting that nothing had recently been put to the torch. He could also make out the sickly sweet stench that was likely that of burning flesh, either animal or human, if not both. As they neared the main square, Beltur saw that, while the Brass Bowl was shuttered tight, it bore no signs of attack or destruction.

  Ahead was a line of mounted troopers across the street just east of the inn. “They’re cordoning off where they’re having their fun.” His voice was bitter, partly because he’d caused the situation and partly because he’d had to stop and rest. If either had been different … He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll bother with the concealment.”

  “I don’t see any archers.”

  “Stay well behind me.”

  “I can do that.”

  Beltur said nothing more as he rode toward the squad blocking the street.

  “Halt!” called out one of the troopers as Beltur neared a point less than fifty yards from the troopers, some of whom had dark splotches on their uniforms.

  Blood, and not theirs, most likely. Beltur kept riding.

  “Ready arms!”

  Beltur almost laughed bitingly. Because he had used a concealment at the beginning of the battle for Haven, the poor bastards in front of him had no idea who—or what—he was. Instead, he extended the thin, bladed, and invisible shields and urged Slowpoke into a gallop.

  “Charge!” ordered the squad leader … or acting squad leader.

  Not wanting to bear the direct impact on his shields of hitting another horse, Beltur aimed Slowpoke at a gap between two mounts. The big gelding swept through the line of riders, and there were almost no screams or yells. Beltur didn’t look back at the heaped bodies of men and mounts, but he still had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. You didn’t start this. They did.

  He eased Slowpoke back to a walk by the time they were passing the vacant square. A quick glance showed that both the Council House and the healing house were charred and still-smoldering heaps.

  “They didn’t have to burn the healing house,” said Jessyla.

  “We repaired it. That means they have to destroy it, to prove that nothing we’ve done will last.” Death lasts, though. He had a fleeting desire to laugh maniacally. He did not, but kept riding.

  Four troopers rode out from a lane across from the shuttered and so-far-untouched East Inn and immediately turned toward Beltur and Jessyla.

  “There’s a woman!”

  “She’s mine.”

  “I saw her first!”

  “Take care of the patroller or whatever first.”

  The four raised blades and urged their horses forward.

  Beltur extended his narrow deadly shields and brought Slowpoke into almost a gallop before crossing the thirty or so yards between them. He again angled for a point between riders. He barely felt the impact and glanced back, only to see four downed mounts and four bodies. He quickly looked around for Jessyla.

  She said nothing as she eased on his right side.

  Beltur momentarily pondered the fact that both inns were untouched, then realized that the Hydlenese wanted them intact for their own use. Pushing that thought away, he extended his senses once more, discovering a larger group of troopers ahead on the north side of the main street, as well as a number of other, and smaller, groups, scattered around on the south side. He decided to deal with the larger group before he got too tired.

  Before long, he saw what he had feared with that larger group. More than a squad of riders milled around Jaegyr and Julli’s small but sturdy stone-walled and slate-roofed home. What remained of the outbuilding that had been Jaegyr’s workshop was still partly in flames, and the gardens in front had been trampled flat. So far the troopers had not found a way to break into the house, but two were pushing Jaegyr’s wagon toward the door, and a log had been fastened to the wagon bed, protruding far enough so that it could be used as a battering ram.

  No one seemed to notice Beltur and Jessyla as they approached. Beltur did not hurry Slowpoke, but studied how the Hydlenese squad was scattered around the dwelling—scattered, and certainly not deployed, suggesting that, at least to some degree, Beltur’s efforts to destroy the command structure had been effective.

  He turned in the saddle. “Just stay close to that tree, and if some of them escape, conceal yourself.” Then he turned Slowpoke and raised a concealment, since it would take more than one run to strike the majority of those around the dwelling and since he didn’t want the unsuspecting troopers to have even a hint of what was in store for them, at least at first.

  He eased the gelding almost due north from the road until he was parallel to the bulk of the troopers, then turned Slowpoke directly toward them and brought him up to as fast a pace as he dared. The shouts and yells came not from those he felled, but from those on the east side of the dwelling when they saw the carnage inflicted on their comrades. Some of the survivors were trying to flee when Beltur came back for a second run alongside the east side of the house, dropping the concealment in an effort to save as much strength as he could.

  The two men who had been pushing the wagon looked up in horror before Beltur used two containments, one after the other, to crush their necks. After that, Beltur turned back toward the road, but two troopers he’d missed were spurring their mounts eastward on the main road, clearly fleeing for all they were worth. Not wanting to spend his energy or that of Slowpoke in chasing the two, Beltur walked Slowpoke back to where Jessyla waited. He looked down at the trooper lying at the edge of the road, then at Jessyla.

  “I couldn’t let him escape, not … with all the blood on his uniform.”

  Blood that had to have come from an innocent, given that the way Beltur had dealt with the attackers earlier hadn’t spilled blood. He nodded. “We need to move on.”

  Neither spoke as he turned Slowpoke south and headed across the main road to the lane on the other side, a lane that would lead to another dwelling surrounded by troopers.

  The door to the once-neat one-story dwelling had been smashed in, as had one of the front windows, where a shutter hung askew. Three troopers sat on their mounts watching the lane … and likely the three riderless horses tied to the porch railing. All three looked almost bored as Beltur rode toward them … until they caught sight of him.

  One yelled something, and two other troopers hurried out of the dwelling. Beltur waited, letting them mount. Then, once they were on the lane, he and Slowpoke charged them. The narrow, razor-edged shields, propelled by the considerable force of a hundred-stone horse, cut them all
down.

  Without speaking Beltur turned Slowpoke back to the house. By the time he reached it, the remaining trooper, eyes wide, stood on the porch, glanced toward his mount, then started to turn when Beltur threw the containment around his neck. In moments, his still figure lay on the wide planks next to another figure, that of a man in brown clothing sprawled facedown there.

  A woman peered from the door, clutching torn garments to herself, looking down at the dead in brown and then to Beltur. “Where … were … you?!!!” Each word was punctuated with sobs.

  Beltur looked directly at her. “Fighting my way here. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? Is that … all you can say?”

  Beltur just looked at her sadly. “What else could I say?”

  He turned Slowpoke toward the next house.

  After that, what he did turned into a blur, one house, one group of troopers after the other …

  … until he found himself riding … somewhere …

  “Beltur … Beltur!”

  Belatedly … and through a haze, and the harsh and acrid smoke of still-burning wood, he realized that Jessyla was the one calling to him. He reined up Slowpoke and looked around, realizing that he was a good half kay east of the edge of Haven. He also could feel that Slowpoke was breathing hard. Did you run him that hard … or was it the effort of pushing those shields?

  He was too tired to shake his head. And if he did, the slow spinning feeling might turn into a whirl with the entire world swirling around him. He didn’t realize that Jessyla had caught up and her mount was right beside Slowpoke until she spoke.

  “Beltur … we can go back to the house now.”

  “Not if there are any Hydlenese around.” The last thing he wanted to do was to wake up tomorrow and do what he’d just done.

  “They’re all gone. Every last one of them … the ones who are still alive, that is. There can’t be more than a few left. If that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Beltur … you’ve done enough.”

  For now. Even that thought was difficult for Beltur.

  “We need to walk slowly. You asked a lot of Slowpoke.”

  “I should walk.”

  “Just let him carry you. He’s in better shape than you are.”

  How long the walk back took, Beltur wasn’t sure, but it seemed that suddenly Slowpoke had come to a stop.

  “Beltur … we’re home.”

  “Home?”

  “That’s right. Gustaan is going to help you dismount.”

  “… don’t need … help…”

  “Just in case.”

  Beltur felt an arm guiding him, and then heard some words.

  “… frigging … dark angels…”

  Then he didn’t hear anything at all.

  XXXIX

  When Beltur woke up, the room was dim. Was it night, or dawn, or twilight? Then he coughed. Almost immediately, the bedroom door opened, and light flooded in. The glare was so bright that Beltur had to close his eyes. Then he felt constricted, closed in, and he realized that he could sense absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

  Jessyla hurried in. “Beltur … are you there?” She closed the door, and the glare subsided as she walked toward him.

  “What … do you mean … am I here?” He opened his eyes again … slowly, sitting up slowly in the bed as he spoke. His voice was rough and hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

  “You’re here.” The relief in her voice was palpable. “You’re really here.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “You haven’t been you. You’ve been threshing and raving for the past two days—”

  “Two days? What day is it?” Beltur stiffened, and a jolt of pain shot through his head. He massaged his forehead, then asked, “What happened?”

  “It’s fourday. Midmorning. We got you to drink some ale, but nothing you said made any sense at all. Then you’d fall asleep. Sometimes, you’d talk. The words were all jumbled. I was so worried. We all were.” Standing by the bed, she reached down and took his hand, gently squeezing it. “It’s so good to know you’re back to being you.” Again, very gently, she released his hand.

  “What about the Hydlenese? Have they attacked again?”

  “No. Lhadoraak doesn’t think they can. Not until they get reinforcements, and that’s likely to take more than an eightday, possibly two if they have to come from Hydolar.”

  “But they still must outnumber us,” Beltur protested.

  “You didn’t leave that many survivors. Gustaan doesn’t think any of those who fled would ever want to fight here again.”

  “I … I thought more of them fled.”

  “The time we took to eat and rest convinced them that we couldn’t do any more. You took most of them by surprise.” Jessyla swallowed. “I couldn’t stop you at the end, not until you almost collapsed. By then…” She swallowed again. “There was so much blood … so many bodies. And I had so little strength left … even if they had survived…”

  “How many?” Beltur asked. Surely there couldn’t have been that many … except you made so many charges … so many … and you were so tired …

  “More than four hundred … Gustaan thought.”

  Four hundred … that … that couldn’t be.

  “Some … a few,” continued Jessyla, “were killed by townspeople when the troopers fled you. There were bodies and blades everywhere. Gustaan and Waerdyn gathered up close to three hundred eighty sabres.”

  Four hundred … that … it couldn’t be … you couldn’t have … Finally, Beltur blurted out, “Slowpoke? How is he?”

  “He’s been sluggish, but he was better this morning. I’ve been feeding him and talking to him.”

  “He likes that. What about everyone else?”

  “Taelya’s been worried about you. She kept saying that your order and chaos weren’t right.”

  “Was she right? Am I still … that way?”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not fine! I can feel it. I can’t sense anything. Not anything. I couldn’t raise a shield if…”

  “Dear…” Jessyla swallowed again. “You came even closer to dying this time, closer than even in Elparta. I wasn’t certain…”

  “But … no one touched me…” He paused. “I used everything, didn’t I? Everything.”

  “Not quite. If you had, you wouldn’t be alive. Your natural order is still low. You have barely enough natural chaos … even now.”

  “You … you gave me some … didn’t you?”

  “Just a little. Just enough.”

  All you could, most likely. Beltur shuddered, and he could feel dull aches throughout his entire body. “Will it come back … what I could do?”

  “I don’t see why not. Right now, you barely have enough order/chaos strength to hold yourself together. That’s why you need to get up … slowly … and have a little to eat. Just a little.”

  Beltur looked down and realized he was wearing only smallclothes … and that purple streaks ran across the top of his thighs … and his forearms. “I’m bruised all over … aren’t I?”

  “Not all over … but in lots of places. Your shields took a beating, and so did you.” She held out a hand. “You’re going to be unsteady, I think.”

  Beltur started to rise, but as his legs started to shake, he took her hand, and then found her easing him into a standing position. “Is anyone else here?”

  “In our house? Not at the moment. You can take your time.”

  Beltur couldn’t help but feel relieved that no one else would see him almost as helpless as an infant as he leaned partly on Jessyla and tottered toward the kitchen. It was a relief to sit down, except that when he leaned back the pressure of the chair on his shoulders hurt enough that he winced involuntarily and immediately straightened. That hurt as well.

  “There’s some warm bread and a fowl soup that Julli brought.”

  “They’re both all right?”

  “Thanks to you and to their house.”
Jessyla ladled out soup from the pot on the stove into a battered bowl and set it before Beltur. “Small mouthfuls, please, and little bites of the bread at first.”

  “What about the townspeople?” asked Beltur.

  “Waerdyn asked around. He thinks about fifteen were killed.”

  “So few?” Beltur found that hard to believe, given that an entire battalion had swarmed over the town.

  “Most houses here only have a few people in them, and the Hydlenese had to break into each one. People here have been worried about brigands for years. Most houses are strongly shuttered and barred. We … you … didn’t give them that much time.” Jessyla paused. “Some of the women … they survived only because you killed the troopers before…”

  “They finished having their way with the women?”

  Jessyla nodded.

  Abruptly, Beltur recalled the sobbing woman, asking where he’d been. He swallowed, except there was nothing to swallow, so dry was his mouth.

  “Now eat. Slowly.”

  Beltur followed her instructions, sipping the soup and interspersing it with small bites of bread. He didn’t quite finish the small bowlful before he felt full … and tired.

  “You need more rest.”

  “All…” Beltur yawned. “… I’ve done is rest.”

  “Healing takes a lot out of you, especially when you’re wounded the way you were.” She moved beside the chair and helped him back to the bedroom.

  Beltur felt that he wasn’t quite so unsteady on the way back.

  XL

  By the time he woke up on fiveday morning, after dozing and eating and dozing and eating throughout fourday, and getting a largely uninterrupted sleep that night, Beltur could again sense objects, if only within a few hundred yards, and he could create light shields, which he was going to try to hold for as long as he could.

  He washed up after breakfast and donned his oldest blacks, then took a carrot from the kitchen before walking down to the barn to see Slowpoke.