"There just might be, sir." Alucius smiled.
"Fifth Company, Northern Guard, was supposed to have reached Dekhron last night. Overcaptain Feran conveys his regards." Frynkel chuckled. "He also said that he hoped that this campaign would be less adventurous than the last time he served under you."
"We can hope that we don't run into pteridons and skylances," Alucius said. "But I'd like your thoughts on this revolt. From what I've seen, the Lord-Protector is a good ruler. So why are people up in arms against him?"
"We don't know. Not for certain. They're rebels who were living in the hills to the southwest of Hyalt. They showed up with weapons and mounts on a Decdi morning at dawn, attacked the two squads of Southern Guards left there, and slaughtered them to the last man. Some of the wealthier merchants and crafters managed to escape. They reported that the insurgents, or the invaders, numbered more than three hundred armed men. They're mostly followers of a cult that believes in the return of the True Duarchy, whatever that might mean."
"A new duarchy under their guidance," suggested Alucius.
"That well might be."
"Wasn't there a post, a fortified one, at Hyalt?" Alucius recalled having breakfast, years before, with an overcaptain stationed there. The man had seemed a good sort, and Talent usually allowed a good judgment of character.
"There was never a hint of trouble. The gates have been open there for years. They were open that morning." Frynkel shrugged.
Royalt had definitely been right, Alucius reflected. "And what sort of support will I get from the Southern Guard?"
"Two or three companies of new lancers just out of training, with a handful of experienced squad leaders and some junior captains, one who's never seen a battle. You'll pick them up in Krost, where they're winding up training."
"You have great confidence in me."
"As I heard the story, you took an entire company of green forced conscripts, broke them free of the Matrial's collars, trained them, and bested four companies of the Matrial's best. For an officer who can do that, this should not be all that hard." A smile played around the marshal's lips. "Of course, I could have heard the story wrong."
"You heard it mostly right. Except we didn't really best four companies. We evaded two and attacked the other two. We just fought well enough to break through them and get home to the Iron Valleys."
"An officer who doesn't listen to the stories about himself. That's even rarer than a good battlefield commander, and you're both."
"I did what had to be done," Alucius said.
"That's what all good commanders say."
"And bad ones as well," replied the younger officer.
Frynkel laughed, then went on conversationally. "I was asking around, Majer, and I was told an interesting story. After you were released from duty as an overcaptain and were headed back home, you were attacked by brigands. Some twenty of them. A senior squad leader said that you'd been badly injured, but that you'd killed all twenty. Not one brigand survived, he said." The marshal looked at Alucius. "How true is that?"
Alucius shrugged. "I killed most of them. I don't know how many others there might have been because I wasn't in very good shape at the end."
"Amazing story. And no one ever tried to find out why twenty brigands were sent after you?"
"Not that I know. At that point, I was still recovering and just wanted to get home. Nothing like that ever happened again. There wasn't much reason to stir things up."
"And no one ever mentioned it to you? Even indirectly?"
"No one, except family here on the stead, of course."
"Hmmm… You never heard from Colonel Weslyn about the matter?"
"No, sir. Then, I was no longer on the active rolls. I am certain that the colonel has had other more pressing concerns. How did you find him?"
"He was most pleasant, although somewhat puzzled at my inspection tour. That was another reason for my trip through the Iron Valleys."
"He has always been most pleasant," Alucius said politely.
"So far as I could tell, he has never been in command in any skirmish or battle."
"That is something I didn't know."
"He had served two years as a captain sometime ago," Frynkel continued, "and then headed the guards for a trader—Halanat was the name, I believe. After the death of a Majer Dysar, about which I understand you have some knowledge—the Traders' Council prevailed upon Colonel Clyon to name him as the assistant commander. Certain irregularities were then removed from the records. I assume you know what occurred after that."
"Colonel Clyon's strange illness and death? Yes." Alucius wondered what irregularities had occurred. "As a captain in the field, I would not have heard about irregularities in Dekhron."
"You were doubtless concerned about more pressing matters—such as surviving brigand attacks. I was led to believe that a young trader died under rather mysterious circumstances following the death of Colonel Clyon's youngest daughter."
"And the young trader was the son of Halanat?"
"No. He was the son of a man called Ostar."
Alucius kept his nod to himself. No wonder the Iron Valleys had been forced to accept annexation by and union with Lanachrona. The Traders' Council had had far too little interest in anything but their own personal schemes and machinations. But then, the Lord-Protector and the Southern Guard had their schemes and machinations, and Alucius could only hope that their goals were somewhat more noble.
"I haven't paid that much attention to what has been happening outside of the Iron Valleys," Alucius said. "If you would not mind, since we do have some time on the road, I would appreciate anything that you could tell me that might bear in any way, however indirect, upon my commission…"
Frynkel turned in the saddle and looked at the captain who rode behind them. "Geragt… move up closer. It won't hurt you to hear all this." Then he cleared his throat and began. "The simplest way to begin is… Nothing is going quite right. Not disastrously wrong, not yet, anyway. I'll start in the east. We have some scattered reports that the new Praetor of Alustre is continuing to increase his forces…"
Alucius listened intently, hoping somehow that what he heard would prove even more useful than Frynkel intended.
Chapter 26
« ^ »
The ride to Dekhron was long, even on the roads of the ancients, and the two squads were forced to stop on the first night at Sudon, then continue on the next morning to Dekhron. There had been but a handful of squad leaders and officers at the training base at Sudon who knew Alurius personally, but all had seemingly heard of him and his past achievements—and by the time he had finished breakfast on Duadi, the newly promoted majer was relieved to mount up and be back on the road to Dekhron.
The clouds of Londi had been replaced by a clear silver-green sky, with a crisp but light wind out of the northwest. The golden grain in the fields to the west of the eternastone road bent slightly to the wind.
Neither Alucius nor Frynkel spoke much until they were a good five vingts away from Sudon and back on the main road south.
"You have quite a reputation, even today," observed the marshal. "That is most interesting."
"Why do you think that is interesting, sir?" asked Alucius.
"When all are doing deeds that are honorable and heroic, there are few with reputations that are heroic, and even fewer stories. The deeds are told quietly, as if necessary, and then all go out and do what they must."
"You seem to be suggesting that there are not enough heroic deeds in the Northern Guard."
"Not exactly, Majer. Those who are true heroes are the men who do what must be done, with fear in their hearts and full understanding of the odds and risks they face. That is what you have done, and I would wager that most of those in your companies also did the same. When you were decorated by the Landarch of Deforya, as I recall, you did not wear the Star of Gallantry. Nor do you now, nor the Star of Honor."
"There were many who deserved those stars, Marshal. Many of t
hem did not live, but they deserved them as much as I."
"You said that to the Lord-Protector, did you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"And how did your men speak of what you did?"
"I don't recall that they did, sir. Most of them did not wish to speak of what we did at all."
"That was my point. When a fighting force must look only to past heroics and not to present deeds and duties, all is not as it should be."
"And what of the Southern Guard?"
"I fear that you are also a hero there, if not of quite such great dimensions." Frynkel laughed softly. "Still… it is a rare man who has been a hero for three lands before he has reached his thirtieth year, and even rarer for him to have survived those heroics."
"I was extraordinarily fortunate." As he replied, Alucius could not help but wonder what had happened over the past two years, and how Lanachrona had gotten into such a situation.
"You doubtless were, and let us hope that such fortune continues. We all could benefit from such." Frynkel smiled. "Now… I should tell you more about the geography of the hills to the southwest of Hyalt."
Alucius nodded, listening.
Chapter 27
Alustre, Lustrea
« ^ »
The man who sat in the unadorned silver chair on the dais wore the silver-and-black jacket of the Praetor with the matching silver trousers. He scowled, the expression making his youthful face ugly rather than older. Although he tossed his head slightly, his short and pale blond hair did not move at all. Neither did his black eyes, which remained fixed on the two men in the tunics of Praetorian Engineers.
"You have been working for nearly two years in Prosp, and you can report nothing beyond this? " He lifted a thin sheaf of paper.
"Honored Praetor Tyren," replied the taller and broader engineer, his eyes still downcast, "it took more than half a year to clean out the rubble, sir. You instructed us to be most careful and to try to salvage all that we could. We took the utmost care."
"There was no sign of Vestor?"
"Ah… his clothes and possessions were there, lying on the floor, as if he had vanished and they had fallen on the floor. There was a pistollike weapon, but nothing like anything we'd seen before. It was crushed, and we've been working to see if we can replicate it."
"Why not just repair it?" Tyren's voice carried untarnished sarcasm.
"It was destroyed beyond all repair."
For a moment, there was silence before the Praetor spoke again. "In this report, you claim that the Table was unbroken. How could that be when two stories of building stones collapsed over it so that nothing was left but a heap of rock?"
"Sir, that was what we found. The Table was untouched. The stones that collapsed on it cracked and broke, but there is not a scratch upon it. As you instructed, we rebuilt the structure around it, but with greater reinforcements."
"Have you had any success with the Table?"
"No, sir. It has a faint glow in pitch darkness, but we can find neither the source of the glow nor an explanation for why it might glow."
"There are no records of what Vestor did?"
"Ah… yes, honored Praetor… he did leave some records and notes…" replied the slimmer and shorter engineer.
"Then why have you not used them to decipher the mysteries of the Table?"
"We cannot read them," confessed the slim engineer. "They appear to be in the ancient Duarchial script, and there is no one alive who can read such."
"If there is no one alive who can read it, just how did Vestor learn it well enough to write it?"
"We don't know, sir," admitted the broader man. "He never talked to anyone about what he was doing. There are some notebooks, older ones that date to several years back, and those were written in Lustrean, and we have used those to reconstruct one crystal tank. We have been successful in rebuilding one of the light-knives similar to those that were successful against the pteridons of the nomads."
"Partly successful," corrected Tyren.
"Yes, Praetor."
"You call yourselves engineers." Tyren snorted. "You might as well call my staff of office one of the Scepters of the Duarchy. A name does not make it so. You may go. Endeavor to learn something more from the Table, if you would. And continue to construct more of the light-knives."
"Yes, honored Praetor."
Neither man met the eyes of the Praetor. They both bowed and retreated from the receiving hall.
Chapter 28
« ^ »
Under a clear silver-green sky, with the sun just nearing its noontime zenith, Frynkel, Geragt, and Alucius rode side by side on the eternastone road toward Dekhron. Behind them rode two squads of Southern Guards. They had just passed the stone announcing that the former capital of the once-independent Iron Valleys lay but two vingts ahead.
"Majer?" Frynkel said.
"Yes, sir?"
"You will need to present yourself to Colonel Weslyn. Since you now report to the Lord-Protector and are under my direct command, that is merely a courtesy and a formality, but a prudent one. As I mentioned earlier, your pay and that of the companies under you, including Fifth Company, will also be borne by the Southern Guards, as will all supplies and equipment once you leave Dekhron."
"The colonel cannot be too displeased with that."
Frynkel offered a crooked smile. "About the golds, no. As I am certain you have considered, he is likely to be less pleased that one of his inactive overcaptains has been promoted to one of the highest ranks in the Northern Guard without his approval and that the same officer will be under the command of and working with the senior officers of the Southern Guard. He also will have thought out that your reputation is both impeccable and unassailable."
"In short," replied Alucius, "he will be most polite, most courteous, and doubtless would not be grieved in the slightest if lightning struck me or some other unlikely calamity occurred."
"That would be a good working assumption, although, if he is as I suspect, he would probably not wish any calamity upon you until after you complete your duties in Hyalt."
Alucius understood that all too well, because the Lord-Protector might well continue the operation in Hyalt with Feran, and Feran's success—and long-standing career—would make Feran an even greater threat to the colonel.
Before that long, they neared the outskirts of Dekhron. The town itself seemed little changed from Alucius's last time there, more than two years earlier. The houses were crowded together and built of the same uneven mixtures of stones scavenged generations earlier from even older buildings. Few of the shutters and doors were painted, and on more than half of those the paint was chipped or peeling, or both. Most of the side streets were of packed clay swirled with red dust. Only the eternastone of the high road seemed fresh and new, if also dusty, and it was older than everything else, Alucius reflected.
As they neared Northern Guard headquarters, Alucius squared himself in the saddle. He couldn't honestly say that he was looking forward to seeing Colonel Weslyn again.
The headquarters complex was also unchanged, not that Alucius had expected much change in two years. The stone wall enclosed a square half a vingt on a side, and stables, barracks, and officers' quarters were all of dressed limestone, with split-slate roofs on all the buildings and stone pavement covering all the courtyard spaces.
The two troopers on sentry duty stiffened as the column approached.
"Marshal, Majer… welcome to Guard headquarters," called out the older trooper.
"Thank you," replied Frynkel and Alucius, almost simultaneously.
"… was the majer?" murmured the younger sentry, in a voice almost too low to be heard.
"The one with the dark gray hair? That's Overcaptain Alucius. Majer, it looks like now. He's the one who killed a thousand barbarians by himself, then was sander-near killed in an ambush and still took fifty brigands down and rode ten kays holding his guts in. Brother served under him. Best troop commander ever…"
"Oh…"
As Alucius reined up before the main headquarters building, he smiled. There had only been twenty brigands in the ambush, and it had taken weeks for him to recover.
"You've got quite a reputation, Alucius," Frynkel murmured with a smile. "The impressive thing is that most of it's true."
"Maybe a little."
The marshal shook his head. "Go ahead and see the colonel. I'll meet with him after you do, while you're getting things settled with Overcaptain Feran and Fifth Company."
Alucius dismounted, then tied the gray to the stone post before opening the worn oak door and stepping into the anteroom outside Colonel Weslyn's spaces. A ranker looked up, momentarily surprised, taking in the uniform and the majer's insignia. "Oh, sir, you must be Majer Alucius."
"That's right. I'm here to see Colonel Weslyn."
"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you, sir. He was asked to meet with the new Traders' Council this afternoon, and he hoped you'd get here before it got too late." The ranker rose. "If you'd just wait a moment, sir, I'll let him know you're here."
"Thank you." Alucius offered a pleasant smile, concealing a frown at the extreme deference. Was that because the ranker feared him—thinking that he had a direct link to the Lord-Protector?
The ranker slipped through the door into the colonel's study, closing the door behind him, but reappearing almost immediately in the anteroom. "Please go in, sir."
Alucius nodded and stepped through the door, in turn closing it behind him.
The tall and broad-shouldered colonel was already standing behind the wide desk. "It's been a while, Majer," offered Weslyn, gesturing to one of the chairs across from him and reseating himself. "You're looking good… and very fit."
"Thank you." Alucius settled into one of the chairs across from Weslyn. He noted that the colonel's thick hair now contained more silver than blond, and a welter of fine lines extended from the corners of his eyes. His Talent sense also showed that the colonel's lifethread was normal—the same amber brown, without the second purpled thread that was the sign of ifrit possession. But… there was the faintest hint of purpleness, as if Weslyn had been near an ifrit or influenced by one. That realization hit Alucius like a wall of cold water, and he was silent for a long moment.
Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters Page 10
