The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “They might still be fighting on the east end of town,” said Jessyla.

  “Can you sense that far?”

  “I can only sense about to Julli’s house. There’s no one on the main street there.”

  As they neared the Brass Bowl, a figure hurried out to the edge of the street, a man Beltur belatedly recognized as Phaelgren. “What happened west of town?”

  “The remaining Hydlenese troopers fled,” said Beltur, not halting Slowpoke. “What happened here?”

  “We don’t know.” The innkeeper had to walk fast, almost trot to keep abreast of Beltur. “A company or so of troopers in blue and maroon rode past here, a glass or so ago. No one rode back.”

  “They might still be fighting,” said Jessyla. “The Hydlenese sent a battalion to attack from the east.”

  Phaelgren looked as though he didn’t understand.

  “They sent three and a half battalions,” said Beltur tiredly. “Something like two thousand men. We’re headed to see if we can help.” Hoping it’s not necessary.

  “You caused all this!”

  “No,” snapped Beltur. “You did. You wouldn’t support your councilors, and you pandered to the traders and smugglers. I don’t want to hear another frigging complaint from you as long as you live.”

  Phaelgren stopped in his tracks, opened his mouth, and then shut it.

  Beltur looked ahead, but all he saw was the empty main street.

  No one came out as they rode past the square and then past the East Inn, which was shuttered and eerily silent.

  When they were a few hundred yards west of the eastern edge of town, Beltur saw a squad of troopers riding swiftly toward them, then let out a breath he hadn’t realized that he’d held when he recognized the pale blue uniforms.

  The two forces reined up on the street just opposite Julli’s small house.

  “What happened west of town?” asked Raelf.

  “There’s maybe a company of Hydlenese left,” said Beltur. “They’re scattered, and the last we saw, they were fleeing. We didn’t know if you needed more help. What happened here?”

  “There might have been fifty Hydlenese survivors, and less than that from Naajuk’s and Deminaar’s companies. Deminaar’s wounded. He might survive.”

  “What about Lhadoraak?” asked Beltur.

  “What he did likely saved us. The initial assault by the Hydlenese killed almost half of the Lydian companies. Lhadoraak must have seen that. He rode with his archers into the middle of the Hydlenese battalion. He said that way any chaos bolts thrown at them would be deflected into the Hydlenese troopers. He had the archers firing iron shafts at their white mage. I don’t know exactly what happened, because it occurred before we could get there. Whatever he did created an explosion around himself that gutted the middle of the Hydlenese force…”

  Around him? Beltur had an immediate sinking feeling.

  “… The white mage didn’t survive the explosion, but neither did Lhadoraak. After that, it was hand-to-hand for almost two glasses, and the remainder of the Lydian forces were on the verge of breaking when we arrived. Without your efforts, and without Zekkarat’s company, we wouldn’t have been in time or able to destroy them. All three Montgren companies are little more than a third full strength. Zekkarat’s company is around half strength.” Raelf shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it a victory. More like survival.”

  “Did you expect anything less?” Jessyla’s voice held more than a tinge of bitterness.

  “No.” Raelf’s tone was surprisingly gentle as he went on. “I didn’t. You might recall that I did recommend putting an armed post here over a year ago.”

  “I recall your mentioning that,” replied Beltur.

  “I would suggest that you councilors claim all the horses, blades, and everything you can. That might fund your own company, and that would not require the agreement of the Duchess.”

  Beltur understood what Raelf wasn’t saying—that golds would likely govern what the Duchess could and would do. “We make that claim, and we request that you and your men honor and support it.”

  “That’s the very least we can do. All weapons and valuables possible will be placed in your storeroom. We’ll make arrangements for the horses.”

  “Also,” Beltur added, “I’d like to request twenty greencoat uniforms, as undamaged as possible. We might need them in the future, and it would be much easier to procure them now.”

  “We can do that as well.”

  “Thank you. What about Rojak?” asked Beltur.

  “Deminaar was in command for most of the battle, until he was wounded. Then Naajuk took over, until he was killed, and I arrived and took command.”

  “And Rojak?” pressed Jessyla.

  “Naajuk reported that Majer Rojak’s command group was attacked, and his neck was slashed in the fight. He bled to death before anyone could help.” Raelf’s tone was level.

  Beltur had a feeling that he knew what that meant.

  “Of course, we’ll report that he died heroically in supporting Mage Lhadoraak’s charge to kill the Hydlenese mage and destroy the center of the Hydlenese battalion.”

  “I see.”

  “With your experience, Mage-Captain, I’m certain you do.” There was an underlying feeling of regret and sadness in the words.

  “Mage-Captain?” asked Jessyla.

  “Both of you,” replied Raelf. “Zekkarat was most astounded at what both of you accomplished. Conferring the rank of captain is within my purview. It might prove helpful. You also seem to have an ability to recruit former enemies to your side.”

  Beltur also understood what went beyond Raelf’s words, but all he said was, “For the moment, is there any immediate need for us?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Then we need to inform Tulya.”

  “Convey my appreciation and regrets as well. I will do that in person as soon as possible.” Raelf’s tone was anything but perfunctory.

  “We will,” replied Jessyla.

  “Also, I’ll have four of my men escort you. I have the feeling that neither of you is in much condition to fight further … or am I mistaken?”

  “I’m not,” replied Beltur. “Jessyla is in very slightly better condition.”

  “Then, you’d best get some rest and food. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Beltur nodded, then turned Slowpoke.

  In moments, they were riding back toward the center of Haven.

  Beltur would have liked to have asked, “Why Lhadoraak?” but he knew all too well the reasons why … and most of them were his doing.

  LXV

  Beltur said little until they had ridden past the square and then the Brass Bowl, without any sign of Phaelgren. “It’s my fault. Lhadoraak, I mean.”

  “Partly,” agreed Jessyla. “But he made his choices as well. He chose Taelya’s life over staying in Elparta. He chose Tulya’s not wanting to be unhappy over staying in Axalt. He chose to take on the white mage in hopes that would make Tulya and Taelya safer for the rest of their lives. I think he also knew that no matter what happened, he’d likely die because the white mage was stronger. He wanted his death to make a difference. It did. Otherwise, that battalion would have overrun the Lydians long before Raelf could reinforce them, and the Hydlenese would have had a company that he cost them. Those were his choices, not yours.”

  “Still—”

  “Beltur … we both made mistakes. We did what we thought best. We didn’t decide to leave Elparta. That was Waensyn’s doing. Barrynt’s killing Emlyn was Sarysta’s fault as much as Barrynt’s, and you can’t blame that on your making a beautiful mirror.”

  That was all true, but there was more there, and Beltur didn’t feel as though he was thinking clearly. “I need to think about it … when I can think.”

  “We both do.”

  They rode to Lhadoraak and Tulya’s house, dismounting at the foot of the path leading to the front door. Beltur handed Slowpoke’s reins to the nearest trooper.
“We’ll be a little while.”

  “Yes, ser. We’ll be here as long as you need us.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two walked up to the door.

  Taelya opened it. “Mother says you should come into the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Taelya,” said Jessyla.

  Once they entered the front room, Beltur could smell something cooking, and he had another sinking feeling.

  Tulya stood by the stove, on top of which was a large pot.

  Burhka. Beltur could feel his eyes burning even before he looked to Tulya.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Tulya said. “I felt it the moment it happened.”

  Beltur could see that her eyes were red. “He saved us all. He took on one of their strongest whites … The Lydian companies had already almost been destroyed…”

  “You don’t have to make him more than he was—”

  “Don’t make him less,” said Jessyla quietly, but firmly. “What Beltur said was true. Lhadoraak not only took out the white, but he kept the Hydlenese from overrunning the Lydians. If that had happened, they would have trapped Raelf before we finished dealing with the other force, and we wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Beltur was on the edge, and I’m not much better.”

  “You survived. I knew you would,” Tulya said to Beltur, “because Jessyla was with you. Without her…” She shook her head. “I couldn’t do that for Lhadoraak. I would … if I could … have … he tried … so hard … to … give us…”

  Jessyla stepped forward and put her arms around the sobbing Tulya.

  Beltur looked to Taelya. “We need to go into the front room for a little bit.”

  “Yes, Uncle Beltur.”

  He took her hand, and they walked from the kitchen. Beltur could still smell the aroma of the burhka as he settled Taelya on the padded bench and sat down on the other end facing her.

  LXVI

  In the end, on twoday evening, Jessyla served Tulya’s burhka, and stayed at Tulya’s house, in Taelya’s room, while Taelya slept with her mother. Beltur took care of the horses and the stable, and slept alone in his and Jessyla’s house. Tired as he was, he did not sleep well and woke early on threeday morning still thinking about how else he could have dealt with the Hydlenese in a way that would not have forced Lhadoraak into sacrificing himself to save others.

  Except Lhadoraak had taken on the white to save Taelya. And possibly to atone for Athaal’s sacrifice? Beltur doubted he’d ever know. What he did know was that, without Lhadoraak’s efforts, matters would have turned out very differently … and very much worse. But if you hadn’t offered for him and Tulya to come to Haven?

  There seemed to be no end to the thoughts and counterthoughts with which he struggled, and he finally got out of bed, discovering from sight and soreness that he again had bruises on his arms, shoulders, and chest … and possibly elsewhere that he couldn’t see.

  By the time the white sun crept above the horizon, Beltur had washed up and changed into a pair of blacks, cleaned the stable, cleaned the tack he’d been too tired to do the day before, groomed the horses, and then fed and watered them.

  He washed up again, after partly refilling the kitchen cistern, and then walked across the street.

  Jessyla opened the door before he could knock, saying immediately, “You’re better, but your order levels are still too low.”

  “So are yours,” he replied dryly.

  “Not so low as yours.”

  Beltur couldn’t argue that, not when he still couldn’t sense much farther than half a kay. He lowered his voice. “How’s Tulya?”

  “What do you think?” Jessyla replied softly.

  “Devastated.”

  “That’s about right, but she’s determined not to show it.”

  “Tell Beltur to come in,” called Tulya from the kitchen. “He can say what he has to say here. I hate whispering.”

  Beltur winced at the despairing hardness in Tulya’s voice.

  “Just keep it in mind,” murmured Jessyla before saying more loudly, “We’re coming.”

  The two moved quickly into the kitchen, where Tulya and Taelya sat at the table. Beltur noted that a place had already been set for him. Beltur studied Tulya with his senses, but her order/chaos levels were close to where they should have been, and, equally important, so were those of the child she carried.

  Jessyla returned to the stove. “Breakfast is just egg, potato, and mutton hash, with bread.”

  “And ale, Aunt Jessyla.”

  “And ale,” added Jessyla, as she took the platters and began to serve the hash, beginning with Tulya.

  Beltur sat down at the table beside Taelya, who still sat at the end on the stool, which left the place beside Tulya empty. He filled his beaker from the pitcher of ale on the table.

  “How are the horses?” asked Jessyla when she served Beltur.

  “They look to be in better shape than we are.”

  “Both of you have bruises on your face,” said Tulya. “Elsewhere, also, I suspect, from the way you’re moving.”

  “Aunt Jessyla, your order levels aren’t that strong,” observed Taelya. “Uncle Beltur’s are really low.”

  We’ll get better. Your father won’t. “That happens when people attack you.” Beltur took a swallow of ale, and then a bite of the hash. He chewed it slowly, not really tasting it at all, trying not to look too often at Tulya.

  “I’m not delicate porcelain, Beltur,” said Tulya, a wryness covering swirling feelings beneath.

  “No, you’re not.” You’re iron re-forged by sorrow and anger. “But you have its refinement.”

  “Hardly.” Before Beltur or Jessyla could say more, Tulya went on. “What are you doing today?”

  “We’ll need to meet with Raelf…” began Beltur.

  “Taelya and I are coming,” declared Tulya.

  “You should,” agreed Beltur. “You’re a councilor and our justicer.” And you’ve paid a higher price than any of us.

  There was little more to be said about that, and Beltur didn’t feel inclined in the slightest to talk about the weather, hot and damp as it already was, unsurprisingly, since it was almost midsummer, nor did he want to talk about anything else that meant nothing just in order to be saying something.

  When Jessyla finished eating, she said, “I really do need to clean up.”

  “Taelya and I will finish up here,” said Tulya.

  “I’ll get the horses ready,” said Beltur.

  “Not Slowpoke and the mare,” said Jessyla.

  “I could ride Slowpoke,” Beltur pointed out. “We’re only going to the East Inn and back today. If we do a little healing, it will be there.”

  Both women looked at him.

  “There are extra mounts in the barn,” Jessyla said, adding firmly, “If I do a little healing, it will be there.”

  At Jessyla’s words, the hint of a smile flitted across Tulya’s face and vanished even more swiftly.

  “I’d forgotten. I wasn’t thinking,” admitted Beltur.

  More than two quints passed before Jessyla walked down to the stable wearing her greens, and carrying a small duffel that contained healing supplies.

  “You really think you should be healing?” asked Beltur.

  “Sense me. What do you think?”

  Beltur did. “You could do a little.”

  “You come with me. You can tell me when I’ve done enough.”

  Just like you warned me yesterday. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good.”

  A half quint later, Tulya and Taelya joined them, and the four rode away from the stable toward the square and the East Inn. Beltur studied the main street, but nothing appeared that much different between their houses and the square, but then no fighting had occurred along that stretch. When they passed the Brass Bowl, he did see that a makeshift corral had been built which was filled with mounts, but whose mounts they had been was another question.

  When the four rode up to the stable at t
he East Inn, several troopers immediately turned and stepped forward.

  “We can stable your mounts, Councilors,” offered the first man to step up.

  “We’d appreciate that,” said Beltur as he dismounted. “Thank you.”

  Jessyla also dismounted and quickly unfastened the duffel with the supplies.

  Once they were inside the inn and walking toward the public room, Taelya said, “They were frightened.”

  “They should be,” murmured Jessyla to Beltur.

  Someone had obviously hurried ahead to alert Raelf, because the public room was empty, except for the majer, who stood waiting beside the circular table. “Councilors … I was hoping to see you.”

  “We’re here.” Tulya stopped short of the table.

  “At times such as these,” said Raelf, looking directly at Tulya, “I cannot imagine your loss. I can only say that we would not have prevailed without your consort and what he did. He changed the course of the entire battle by removing a white mage at a time when the Lydian forces had been almost destroyed. In the end, only about fifty of them survived, and half of those were wounded. Some still may not live. Lhadoraak not only annihilated more than a company, but he brought that part of the battle to a halt. That allowed the companies freed by Jessyla and Beltur the time to turn and take on the remaining Hydlenese. If you don’t already know, neither Beltur nor Jessyla could have done any more by that time.”

  “It took all three of them,” replied Tulya quietly, her voice hardening and turning cold as she continued. “This battle killed Lhadoraak, almost killed Beltur, and could easily have killed Jessyla. It never should have happened. We—and you and your men—paid for the mistakes made by the Duchess or for her unwillingness to purchase the armsmen necessary to protect her land. That … that I will neither forget nor forgive. We have kept our word, and we will continue to do so. Order and chaos help her if she ever makes that mistake again.”

  Beltur thought Raelf paled slightly at Tulya’s words.

  “As you know,” the majer replied, “I had recommended putting a post here. I was not heeded. You are right. Still … despite any failings the Duchess may have, I would still prefer her to any other ruler in Candar.”