Legacies

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Alucius nodded.

  'We leave in a glass. I'll inspect gear in half a glass. Fall out and get ready."

  Alucius let the older troopers lead the way back to the barracks wing. Oryn walked beside Alucius. Like Alben, Alucius had learned, Oryn was from the north, but from Northport, rather than Klamat, and he was wiry and blond, and a good six years older than Alucius.

  Oryn looked at Alucius. "He fired that last one at you."

  'He doesn't know me yet," Alucius pointed out.

  'You always so… reasonable?" asked the smaller man.

  'No," admitted Alucius, with a laugh. "I can be very stubborn. This isn't the time." Or the place, he reflected, not a thousand vingts from home with a collar around his throat and his Talent still weaker than he would have liked.

  Seventh squad rode northward through a clammy mist and along a rutted clay road less than four yards wide. Alucius shifted his weight in the saddle. He was stiff. For the last few months, he'd actually been sleeping on a real bunk. Now, for each of the past three nights, seventh squad had stopped at one of the stone-walled way stations beside the high road—essentially two rooms—one with twelve wooden frames on which to lay a bedroll and one with twelve crude stalls.

  He glanced up, but the sky directly overhead remained gray, as it had been for the nearly two glasses since the squad had left the way station—and the high road. On each side of the road loomed tall spruces and firs, their tops lost in the misty fog. Infrequent bird calls, unfamiliar to Alucius—issued from the woods flanking both sides of the hilly road.

  Kuryt and Venn were scouting—in a way—riding five hundred yards ahead.

  A call came from ahead.

  'Timber wagon coming," called Alben. "Single file on the right. Single file on the right!"

  Alucius was in the second rank, and he let Denal, the trooper he'd been riding beside, slip in front of him. The first wagon was a three-axled monster—pulled by eight enormous dray horses. On the wagon were timbers six yards long, rough cut to a size of two spans by two, and securely roped in place. Behind the timber wagon were four riders, followed by two other wagons. Even through the fog, Alucius could make out the loggers in the wagons.

  'Squad halt!" ordered Alben.

  A small gray-haired woman in a faded brown jacket who carried a brace of rifles had reined up opposite Alben.

  Alucius used both his Talent and his ears, since sound carried even more in the fog.

  '… attacked yesterday afternoon… drove 'em off, but lost three loggers… couple more wounded… low on ammunition… couldn't see the point in staying… pulling out for now…"

  '… know how many…?" asked Alben.

  '… couldn't tell for sure… might have been one of their squads—twenty…"

  '… be following tracks… you'll report this…"

  '… we'll report it, squad leader… need more than a few squads here… a whole company."

  '… we're scouts…"

  '… should have been here before the dirty southerners… could have used some warning…"

  Alucius could easily sense the head logger's rage, and Alben's discomfort and deference, as well as the squad leader's own checked anger.

  '… giving poor Alben what-for…" murmured Oryn.

  '… he doesn't decide who to send…"

  '… she doesn't care…"

  Once the loggers had left, Alben addressed the squad. "Looks like we've got a squad of Southern Guards running loose. They took a shot at the logging camp, then moved north. We'll follow, but we're in no hurry. From here on in, rifles ready to fire on command. You can leave them in the holder if you think you're fast enough—except for the scouts…"

  Over the next glass, the fog burned off until there were only wisps in some of the darker parts of the forest and a faint haze overhead. With the sun came warmth and, for Alucius, a soaking sweat compounded from heat and damp air. Almost with every step Wildebeast took, Alucius found himself wiping perspiration out of his eyes or off his forehead—when he wasn't either brushing away the gnats or trying to ignore them.

  'Rifles ready!"

  At Alben's order, Alucius pulled the Matrite weapon from its holder.

  'Squad left! Down the lane."

  The lane, wider than the road they had followed, ran for less than a hundred yards before it opened onto a cleared area bright with midday sunlight.

  The logging camp was more like a lumber hamlet, with nine neat bungalows, shuttered and locked, two drying barns, a sawmill, and a stable. Like every other hamlet, the houses had stone walls, but the roofs were shingled, rather than slate. Out in the hazy sunlight, the gnats vanished, but were replaced by large and hungry horseflies.

  Alucius could sense that no one was nearby, not anything human. He could sense something—but his Talent showed it as brownish green, and he'd never sensed anything like that. Whatever the creature was, it was at least a vingt away, and showed no sign of approaching. Still, Alucius held his rifle as if someone might attack at any moment. He didn't want Alben getting ideas of any sort besides the one that Alucius was young.

  'Venn—to the northwest corner of the cleared space. Get close to the trees and use one for cover. Kuryt! Northeast corner… Daafl… southwest… Denal… southeast. The rest of you… check the buildings. See if there's any sign of anyone breaking in. All of you! I order a fall-back, and you move! Full speed to the lane and south."

  Alucius found himself riding around the two westernmost bungalows. No one had tampered with the locks or the shutters. There were no recent tracks in the damp clay, not besides those of the loggers and their wagons and mounts, and Alucius sensed no one. Although there was wildlife in the woods beyond the camp, most of the creatures felt small, except for whatever registered with his Talent as brownish green.

  That was more distant, and it felt more like a soarer or a sander than a sandwolf or a dustcat.

  One by one, except for the perimeter guards, the rest of the squad returned to Alben.

  So did Alucius. "Checked the last three bungalows and the ground nearby, sir. No sign of anything but the loggers, sir."

  Alben nodded, and Alucius slipped Wildebeast into the column beside Oryn.

  'See anything?" asked Oryn.

  'Not a thing."

  'Good. Their squads are more than twice our size. Don't know why the overcaptain didn't send two squads."

  'We're only scouting," Alucius pointed out, even as he wondered. Certainly, the Matrites hadn't had any problems in sending more and more companies against the Iron Valleys. Lanachrona was more of a threat—and closer.

  'Guards in!" Alben ordered. "Keep your rifles handy. We'll keep heading north."

  Alucius found himself riding in the first rank, beside Oryn, continuing away from the high road and along a logging road that, while it had not narrowed, had gotten progressively more weatherworn, with higher underbrush on both sides. Brekka and Fustyl rode a good two hundred yards ahead.

  By midafternoon, seventh squad had ridden a good ten vingts from the logging camp, but still had not seen any tracks in the road. Then, Alucius wouldn't have left any there, either, not if he'd wanted to set an ambush.

  'How do you think the southerners got here?" Alucius asked his riding mate.

  'Probably came down the old river road and then hit the logging road," Oryn offered. "They can cut off the southwest high road on their side of the border and make us travel farther."

  Alucius nodded, his attention abruptly moving to his Talent-senses. There was something up ahead—several troopers, black as shown by his Talent, on the right side of the road, uphill and somewhere sheltered by the large tree trunks.

  What could he do without revealing his Talent? And without having troopers slaughtered in an ambush, himself included.

  He cocked his head to one side, as if listening, although he heard little except insects, and few of those. Then he eased the rifle up, so that he could fire quickly.

  Oryn glanced at him. "You hear something?"<
br />
  'I don't hear anything. That's the problem." Alucius could sense the anticipation of the four Lanachronans. What he couldn't understand was where the rest of the Lanachronan troopers were. He edged Wildebeast slightly more to the right side of the road, so that he could have a better line of fire—if he had any shot at all through the thick trunks of the trees. Finally, he could wait no longer.

  'Sir! Blue! To the right!" As he spoke, Alucius fired.

  Crack! Crack!

  A deeper sounding crack replied.

  'Fire from the right!" Alben snapped. Take cover and return fire."

  Crack! Crack!… More shots filled the forest air, shots from both sides.

  Alucius cocked, reaimed and fired again, even as he quickly guided his mount practically against one of the larger trunks. He could feel the sudden death void, and while the trooper could have died from any of the shots, Alucius knew he had killed the man.

  Pushing that thought away, he concentrated on the other three, but still worried about where the rest of the Lanachronans might be.

  Sporadic shots continued.

  Alucius waited, until he sensed one of the Lanachronan troopers easing from behind a trunk to fire, when he quickly brought his own rifle to bear and squeezed off a quick shot. This time, there was a reddish flash of pain—agony—before the death void.

  Just as suddenly, the two remaining Lanachronans turned and began to retreat.

  'They're backing off, sir!" Alucius called.

  Oryn snapped off another shot, but there were none in return.

  There was a cracking and swishing of brush, and Alucius could sense the two mounting and taking two riderless mounts with them.

  A quarter glass passed, but there were no other sounds and no shots.

  'Alucius… can you see where they were?"

  'Yes, sir."

  'Ease in there… see if they left any traces."

  'I'll need to go on foot, sir."

  'Oryn, hold his mount."

  Alucius dismounted, handing the leathers to Oryn, while using his Talent to press a calming feeling on Wildebeast. Then, rifle in hand, he slipped from tree trunk to tree trunk, knowing no one was there, but also not wanting to show that he knew that.

  As he had already known, there were two bodies, both in the dark blue of the Southern Guards. One, a clean-shaven young trooper, didn't look that much older than Alucius, and, despite the blood across one side of his head, reminded Alucius somewhat of his friend Var-dial—who might well be in the militia now. The other was an older man, thin and tired looking.

  'Sir!" Alucius called. "Two dead southerners. Southern Guard uniforms."

  The two still carried their sabres, but their compatriots had taken their rifles.

  Alben appeared within moments. He studied the bodies for a moment, then bent and checked them. "Nothing here. Their friends took their wallets and their rifles." He straightened and looked at Alucius.

  Alucius returned the glance, not defiantly, but merely as if accepting Alben's scrutiny. After a moment, the junior squad leader looked away. "Let's go."

  Alucius eased his way through the trees and back to the road and Wildebeast.

  'Re-form on me!" snapped Alben.

  The squad reformed, with Brekka and Fustyl riding back cautiously. Alben rode to meet them, his eyes taking in both sides of the road. The three stopped a good fifty yards north of where the rest of the squad waited.

  Alucius listened.

  '… you didn't see anything?"

  '… no, sir… must have been lying low till we passed…"

  '… trying to get shots at all the squad…"

  After a time, Alben nodded, and the two formed up.

  'We'll keep moving north… except the two scouts will stay about fifty yards out," Alben announced. "Do I have to tell you to keep your rifles ready?"

  'No, sir."

  Seventh squad continued along the old logging road.

  Another glass passed. The forest got warmer, and Alucius stickier, and the gnats more numerous. But there were no signs of the Lanachronans, and Alucius could not sense anything human in the forest on either side.

  The squad leader eased up beside Alucius.

  'Sir?"

  'How did you know they were there?" Alben's eyes focused hard on Alucius.

  'I saw a flash of color, sir. Never saw an animal in blue with white piping, sir. So I yelled, and I fired. I didn't know if I should have waited, but I wanted to upset them enough so they didn't get a clear shot."

  Alben nodded. It wasn't a gesture of agreement. "How could you see through all that brush?"

  'I come from a herder family. I wasn't the herder, but you learn to watch for the little things, the things that should be—or the things that should be and aren't. Didn't hear as many insects and no bird calls. So when I saw blue…" Alucius shrugged. He could tell that Alben was not totally convinced. "I yelled and fired as quick as I could."

  Alben smiled. "Think you had a little luck there, Alucius, but we'll take luck."

  'Yes, sir." Alucius wasn't going to argue. "Keep looking." "Yes, sir."

  As Alben rode forward toward the scouts, Oryn looked to Alucius. "More 'n luck."

  'Thank you. I was watching and listening, but I probably was a bit lucky."

  Oryn grinned. "Don't care what it was. If it's luck, keep doing it." Alucius nodded. He still wondered—about the Lanachronans, and, in a way, about what he and seventh squad were doing—and why they were undermanned compared to the Lanachronan forces.

  Northeast of Iron Stem, Iron Valleys

  As the late spring snow swirled around the stead house, the three sat around the kitchen table, taking in the warmth from the iron stove that had been used to prepare the supper they had just finished eating.

  'Have you heard anything from Alucius?" asked Veryl, her voice so thin that her husband and her daughter had to lean forward at the table to hear.

  Royalt shook his head. "The militia has pressed every possible company of horse into the battle. They're not getting much time off."

  'Have you heard how it's going?" asked Lucenda.

  'I had so hoped we would get a message this month," Veryl said, almost querulously. "He's always been such a good boy. Has young Wendra heard from him?"

  'If Alucius hasn't been able to send us a message, I doubt that she's received one," Lucenda said dryly. She did not look directly at her mother, but at her father. "I saw another company of horse riding north this afternoon on my way back from town."

  'Kustyl says that we've pushed the Matrites back out of Soulend. They still hold the old outpost. He's worried that they're going to bring in even more troopers. They had some Talent-weapon, but it exploded. Without it, they're not as good as we are. The winter's helped too. They're not used to the cold."

  "What will happen when it warms up?" asked Lucenda.

  'Not much besides what's already happening—unless we get heavy rain. That could hurt, because we couldn't use all the back stead roads."

  'I just don't understand why he hasn't written," fretted Veryl. "It's not like him. It just isn't. You're sure he's all right?"

  'He should have recovered from that wound," Royalt replied. "If he hadn't, we would have heard." He turned to his daughter. "It's a good thing Clyon took over the defense of Soulend personally," Royalt said with a snort. "He sent that idiot Dysar back to Dekhron."

  'Why don't they get rid of Dysar?"

  'Because he's not too bad at handling administrative things, because he's related to half the Council, because the Council wants their fingers on the militia, and because they still think the Matrites are traders and that if we hold them off long enough, they'll go away, like the Lanachronans did."

  'Will they?"

  'Our only real hope is that we can bleed them dry enough that the Lord-Protector will make a grab for Southgate or the southern fruit-lands of Madrien."

  'That's a slim hope," Lucenda noted.

  'Not so slim as it once was—'

/>   'It's not like him not to write," Veryl repeated. "I just don't understand it, such a thoughtful boy, not writing his mother."

  'He's trying very hard to do his job and stay alive, dear," Royalt said gently. "There are at least twice as many Matrite troopers as we have. Between cleaning his gear and getting sleep and fighting, I'm sure he has little time. He also may not have anything to write on or with."

  'That's certain enough," Lucenda added.

  Royalt nodded, both at her words and the second meaning behind them.

  'You both say that. I still think he could write."

  'I'm most certain that if Alucius could write, dear," Royalt said patiently, "he surely would."

  Lucenda nodded, then looked down at the table, before turning and rising abruptly. "There are dishes to be done."

  'He should write," Veryl murmured. "He should."

  Lucenda and Royalt exchanged sad glances, before Lucenda went to check the kettle that held the hot wash water for the dishes.

  After nearly a week of patrols, and no success in finding the Lanachronan raiders, seventh squad returned to Senob Post on Septi. The squad had Novdi off—after a very long Octi that had begun with cleaning of tack and riding gear and ended just before supper with an inspection where Alben went over everything from uniforms to gear to bunks and spaces.

  Midmorning had just passed when Alucius and Oryn straightened their undress green uniforms—their pass uniforms—and started to leave the barracks. Most of the older troopers in seventh squad had either gone back to their bunks, except for Brekka and Daafl, who were playing leschec with the pieces borrowed from the library and set up on Daafl's footchest. Alucius paused to study the positions on the board.