The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  Beltur glanced at the sturdy reed basket as Jessyla took it. It didn’t look all that old to him, but that was between the two women.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. We all hope you won’t need it.”

  That was definitely a vain hope, Beltur knew as he nodded once more.

  The two turned and walked to the quarters building, whose front room now also served as the muster room for the small town patrol of Haven.

  Gustaan stood on the narrow front porch, waiting as the two mages approached.

  “Good morning,” offered Beltur.

  “The same to you, Councilors. You think the rest of the Hydlenese are going to show up today?”

  Beltur waited.

  “More than likely sometime this afternoon,” replied Jessyla.

  “It was bound to happen,” replied the former squad leader.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Jessyla.

  “From what I heard and saw, no one can tell the Duke what he doesn’t want to hear. Not if they value their life and family. Graalur said it got even worse after we were forced out.” Gustaan turned to Beltur. “That’s why the only thing that stopped that last battalion was killing most of them. They were more afraid of the Duke than death.”

  Beltur had felt that all along, but hearing it from Gustaan just confirmed his fears. “You make it sound like we’ll have to do something like that again.”

  “You might not have to go as far, ser, but you’ll have to beat them so decisively that they’ll break and flee. No one will want to return from a defeat.”

  Make them break and flee? Slightly more promising than having to slaughter thousands of men who had put themselves in a position where they had little choice. “That’s something to think about. Thank you.”

  “The others are inside.” Gustaan gestured, then opened the door.

  The other four—Therran, Turlow, Dussef, and Graalur, also in patroller blues—jumped to their feet.

  “You can all sit down,” said Beltur. “This won’t take long. There are now three battalions of Hydlenese troopers southwest of Haven. Since we haven’t discerned any mages, it’s likely that the last contingent, a battalion or so, will arrive this afternoon, and no later than tomorrow. It’s unlikely that any major fighting will happen until oneday or twoday. Your job is to keep order here in Haven as best you can. You are not to join the fighting unless you’re attacked. Is that clear?” Beltur looked at each patroller, one at a time.

  “Ser?” offered Gustaan.

  “Yes?”

  “Even with the Lydian troopers you’re outnumbered.”

  “That’s true. But once all the fighting’s over, they’ll all vanish, and if you all get yourselves wounded or killed, who’ll be left to keep the peace? I know none of you would shrink from fighting, but you’ve all barely recovered from the last time you fought, and we’ll need you after the fighting’s done.” Beltur paused, then added, “Part of this mess is because the Lydians let it get this far. Let them be the ones to do the sacrificing this time.” He managed a lopsided grin.

  “You’re sure about that, ser?” pressed Gustaan.

  “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know. Also, once it’s over I just might need you all for something special. But we’ll talk about that when the time comes.” Beltur gestured toward the square. “Market day is starting early today, and it might be good to have two of you out there.”

  “I’d thought that, ser,” replied Gustaan. “Is there anything else?”

  “Not right now. We’ll keep you informed about what we know.”

  “Thank you, ser.”

  Once Beltur and Jessyla were out in the square, she looked at him. “Something special? Just what else do you have in mind?”

  “Whatever might be necessary to make sure we don’t have to fight again any time soon. I’m still thinking about what exactly that might be.”

  “You’ve already thought about it, haven’t you?”

  “I can’t keep much from you, can I?”

  “No, and I’m afraid I know what you’re thinking, but we’ll leave it at that because it doesn’t matter unless we win.”

  “Until after we win,” said Beltur firmly.

  “Then we’ll discuss it.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good.”

  “Since we’re here,” said Beltur, glad to change the subject, although he knew it wouldn’t be forgotten, only postponed, “we might as well go see the majer before we head back to the house.”

  They found Raelf outside the stables, talking to several dusty troopers, but waited until he finished before approaching him.

  “Is there anything new?” asked Beltur.

  “Nothing’s changed. Their scouts are staying on their side of the border.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” said Jessyla. “They were the ones who started the attacks.”

  “It does if their strategy is to wait until they’re all ready and they attack and wipe us out entirely. That way there’s no one left to contest their version of the story, and that would be that we attacked a helpless recon company, and that they felt that Montgren had to be taught a lesson.” Raelf’s tone became increasingly sarcastic as he finished.

  “What about the reports we sent?”

  “There wouldn’t be anyone left alive to corroborate them, and the Duke could claim that you councilors lied to cover up your misdeeds, and even that you misled me and the Duchess.”

  Beltur could see that happening all too easily, and, from the expression on Jessyla’s face, it was clear that she did as well.

  “Then, we’d better make certain that the only version of the story that is heard is our version,” replied Jessyla, “the correct one.”

  “As soon as your scouts sight any new Hydlenese force,” said Beltur, “we’d like to ride out and see if we can find out whether they have mages and where they are posted.”

  “You’ll know immediately, and I’ll be accompanying you. That will save time and give me a better feel of their disposition.”

  Beltur nodded, then said, “We’ll be at the house.”

  “I’ll send word.”

  “Until then.”

  Raelf turned and headed in the direction of the public room, and Beltur and Jessyla walked toward the square.

  “Why are so many rulers like Duke Massyngal or the Prefect and so few like the Duchess?” asked Jessyla tiredly.

  “You mean, men?” said Beltur lightly.

  “Well … that could be a good part of it,” she countered with a hint of a smile. “So far, I haven’t seen as much arrogant stupidity … I take that back. Sarysta was just as arrogant and stupid as the Prefect and Duke Massyngal. Maybe there just aren’t enough women in power for there to be as many stupid women rulers as men.”

  “That could be,” replied Beltur, “but Sarronnyn and Westwind are both ruled by women, and I’ve yet to hear anything stupid from any of those women, and the Duchess definitely isn’t stupid or arrogant. It could be that women rulers are more cautious because they feel every move they make is watched … and any weakness or failure is seized upon. It might be different if women had as much power as men.”

  “That could be. Sarysta thought she could do whatever she wanted.” Jessyla shook her head.

  “That’s one reason why I’ve tried to be really careful with Taelya.”

  “Because you think she’ll be a powerful white?”

  Beltur nodded. “Everyone will be watching everything she does.” Then he added, “People are starting to watch everything you do, now.” And they’ll watch even more if we can put the Duke in his place.

  “Only Rojak so far,” she replied dryly.

  “And most of the town.”

  Jessyla just shook her head and kept walking.

  Beltur smiled to himself.

  Once back at the house, Beltur stopped short of the front door. “We really didn’t get that much done last night with your sliding or moving chaos.”<
br />
  “I know. It bothers me.” After a moment, she said, “You’re right, though. Trying to practice it in the middle of a battle wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “It’s my fault. I should have pushed you to do more earlier, but … we’ve had a lot to deal with.”

  “You also weren’t in the best of shape.”

  That was unfortunately true, but Beltur didn’t want to deal with that. Instead, he said, “Now … I’m going to concentrate some free chaos and surround it with order. Put a containment around it and try to move it.”

  The small ball of chaos-fire sparkled in the air. Beltur was vaguely surprised at how little effort it had taken, especially given how he’d struggled in trying the same thing for his uncle.

  “I’ve never seen you use that much chaos,” she said as she placed a containment around the order-bounded chaos.

  “I’d prefer not to. This is an exception … for very good reasons. Now … move it.”

  The containment holding the chaos moved away from both of them, then stopped.

  “Now what?” asked Jessyla.

  “Move it as quickly as you can and then release containment as you’re moving it.”

  Beltur watched as Jessyla did just that. The ball of chaos arced downward and struck the ground some five yards away, where the chaos immediately turned a clump of grass into a momentary flame … and then ashes.

  “Oh…” Then Jessyla frowned. “It didn’t go very far.”

  “You’ve got the basic idea right, but you either have to push the containment farther and higher or use some order to keep pushing and guiding the chaos. Why don’t you try it again?”

  Jessyla frowned. “You’re sure you want to gather more chaos?”

  “Small bits like that, especially surrounded by order, aren’t a problem.” In fact, Beltur was surprised at how little strain it was. Because of all the work you did in healing with free order and chaos? Or just because your control is better? With that, Beltur created another small ball of free chaos, still surrounded by order.

  The second time, Jessyla propelled the small chaos ball into the street.

  “You’re getting better, but you might be better not aiming it directly at Tulya’s house, just in case you suddenly improve a whole lot.”

  “You think I can?”

  “It’s clear you have the skill. Now, it’s a matter of practice—”

  “And your creating the chaos so that I can practice.”

  “I’m not creating it. I am gathering it.”

  “That doesn’t hurt?”

  “Not so long as I’m using order.” Beltur created another chaos ball. “See how far you can throw this.”

  After almost two quints of helping Jessyla, Beltur was sweating heavily, and he could tell that she was tiring, although she was lofting the small chaos balls into the north-south street almost sixty yards away.

  “One last time,” Beltur said, “or maybe two. Except this time there won’t be any order around the chaos. I’ll gather it with order, but you aren’t to put the containment around it until I remove the confining order. You need to sense the difference.”

  Jessyla winced. “I know it’s necessary…”

  “That’s what it will take if you want to be as effective as you can be.”

  She took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

  Beltur created the chaos ball, then stripped away the order.

  Jessyla had the containment around it and flung the chaos ball. It flew a good twenty yards beyond her previous efforts. “Why did it go farther?”

  “I don’t know … exactly. I think it’s because when we use order it’s like a thin cord holding it back. It’s a trade-off, though. I have greater control the longer I guide it with order, but it doesn’t go as far.”

  Jessyla shuddered. “It still feels … wrong, in a way.”

  “As I told you before, it’s just chaotic, and that goes against order. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “Is it for you?”

  “Not as much as for you, but that’s likely because I was raised by a white mage.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do this often, I mean, handling the chaos without the protection of order.”

  “It’s not a good idea, but you needed to feel how it is that way.” Beltur smiled. “I’m ready for an ale. How about you?”

  “That makes two of us.” She paused. “Thank you for working with me.”

  “I should have done it earlier.” Much earlier.

  “I’m not sure I would have been ready much earlier.”

  Beltur had the feeling that her words were mostly true, but that a little bit might have been to make him feel better—which made him feel a little guiltier.

  Not unexpectedly, a messenger appeared at the house at two quints past fourth glass, with the news that another Hydlenese force had arrived, most likely somewhat larger than a battalion, and a request that Raelf join them on an immediate reconnaissance of the enemy positions and emplacements.

  “We’ll be ready in about a quint,” Beltur said.

  “The majer said that he’d join you here, sers.”

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  Once the trooper rode off, Beltur turned to Jessyla. “You were right.”

  “I like the way you said that.”

  “The way I said it?”

  “You weren’t angry, chagrined, or irritated. You just stated it. Many men couldn’t.”

  A year earlier, Beltur knew, he would have been one of those men, but Jessyla knew that, and there wasn’t any point in stating it. “If you’d fill the water bottles with ale, I’ll start on saddling the horses. Do you want the mare again?”

  Jessyla frowned. “No. One of the others. I’d like her when we might have to fight.”

  “I’ll still take Slowpoke. He told me he was restless this morning. Besides, you said twoday.”

  “I said oneday or twoday. You said twoday.”

  Beltur grinned sheepishly. “I guess I did.”

  “You’re likely right. Since they arrived late today, they probably won’t attack tomorrow.”

  “Let’s hope we’re not that surprised,” Beltur said as he headed for the kitchen door.

  Majer Raelf was as good as his word. Jessyla and Beltur had just led the horses out of the barn when Beltur saw a squad in the pale blue tunics of Montgren riding toward them.

  The two of them immediately mounted and rode to join the two majers, since Rojak rode beside Raelf.

  “Good afternoon,” said Raelf as Beltur and Jessyla eased their mounts into the column behind the two officers.

  “The same to you,” returned Beltur. “Were your scouts able to discover how many companies are in this latest group?”

  “Not precisely. It’s more than a battalion by probably two companies, but it could be three.”

  “That was what you thought it would be,” said Jessyla.

  “Lord Korsaen’s sources are usually accurate. I’d guess that several of those companies are here just to guard the encampments. That would free all the better-trained companies to fight.”

  “That still means four battalions,” Rojak pointed out.

  “I’d like to see what you two can sense,” said Raelf. “All the recent arrivals went to the encampment to the west of the Hydolar road. I thought we’d take the east-west road past the turnoff for Hydolar, and if you need concealments to get better information, the scouts have briefed me on a set of back lanes. I’ve got a rough map, but it’s not precisely to scale.”

  “It’s likely close enough,” said Beltur.

  “There’s also one other interesting thing,” said Raelf almost offhandedly. “They only have something like fifteen supply wagons.”

  For a moment, Beltur didn’t grasp the implications. Then he said, “If they don’t have more on the way, they can’t stay too long, unless they attempt to raid every stead in twenty kays, and that would make them more vulnerable.”

  “It also means that the Duke and his marshal didn’t e
xpect the first two attempts to take Haven to fail. Further, I suspect that the Duke insisted on the attack taking place now, rather than waiting for more supplies. I’d like to wait them out, but I doubt we’ll be given that choice. They won’t attack tomorrow, probably not on oneday. Twoday’s most likely, and if not then, they’ll strike on threeday.”

  “So we need to find out as much as we can in the next few days,” suggested Jessyla.

  “Precisely,” said Raelf.

  “Why would they put their two encampments so far apart?” asked Rojak. “There’s almost two kays between them.”

  Raelf looked back at Beltur.

  “I can think of two reasons. First, there aren’t any large streams nearby. The only one of any size is the one that runs through Haven from the north, but it meanders southeast into Lydiar. Both those steads likely have springs with clean water. Second, there’s a decent back road that connects the two, and they can reach the Hydolar road easily from both, even if we get heavy rain. Oh, and it’s much harder for us to attack them undetected. That’s likely why they didn’t put a company on top of the hill where we attacked. They’ll have a few troopers there all the time, I’m sure.”

  “They already do,” said Raelf. “They also have some farther west on the road from Certis, a good five kays west, but on the south side.”

  “I can’t believe the Viscount would come to our aid,” said Beltur.

  “He won’t. He might attack Massyngal if it benefitted Certis.” Raelf snorted. “That won’t happen until after we fight, but if Massyngal’s commanders want to keep a squad out of the fighting, I’m not one to complain.”

  The majers and the mages continued riding east from Haven, but Beltur didn’t see or sense any Hydlenese near the road, although he did sense and later saw mounted sentries from Montgren posted at intervals along the road.

  When they neared the still-defaced kaystone, Beltur began to gather in a sense of concentrated chaos to the west-southwest. He looked to Jessyla and murmured, “What do you sense?”

  “There’s something chaotic out there,” she replied quietly.

  By the time they had ridden another kay, Beltur was fairly certain. “They’ve definitely got white mages at the west encampment, and one is fairly strong. There’s no sign so far of any black mages.” Beltur would have been astounded if there were any, given Massyngal’s reputation, but it was certainly possible. “We’ll have to get closer before we can determine more.”