From nowhere, a shivering line of reddish purple flared to her left. She had not seen it, but sensed it and turned in the saddle, drawing her rifle out of its holder as she did. Almost as quickly, as she eased her mount around, she infused the cartridges in the magazine and chamber with darkness.
Four dark forms swarmed over the ridge to the north of her, moving swiftly on a line between the three young nightrams and Wendra. As if sensing the purple-dark sanders, shadowed in unseen blue and without lifethreads, the three nightrams turned and formed a vee facing the oncoming danger.
Carefully, Wendra squeezed off her first shot, aimed at the lead sander. Her aim was true, and she targeted the second. But the first flared into a pillar of fire, and the force of that flare of blue flames pushed the second sideways. Then the remaining three turned southward and began to sprint toward Wendra.
She squeezed off a third shot and then a fourth, and the second sander fell. With her fifth shot so did the third.
But the last Talent-sander was less than twenty yards from Wendra, and she doubted that she could reload in time.
Desperately, she threw out a line of Talent-fire. The sander reeled back, but remained upright. She tried a second probe, but the sander struggled forward.
Did she need bullets for lifeforce darkness?
With the Talent-sander less than ten yards from her, Wendra formed another Talent-probe, this one tipped with as much darkness as she could gather, and thrust it as hard as she could at the oncoming creature. As she did, she knew that what she tried had to work… or she would turn into a mass of blue flames.
Less than a yard from her, the dark sander halted, as if stopped by a wall, shuddered, and then seemed to shrivel.
Wendra urged the chestnut sideways and back away from the slowly toppling and shrinking form that abruptly burst into flame. Warmth cascaded across her left side, warmth that faded as she and her mount moved away from the Talent-fire.
Wendra reined up, studying the slope. She was shivering and breathing heavily, but there were no sandwolves and none of the dark sanders remaining, only four trails of thin black smoke rising in the still air from four patches of oily black residue on the sandy red soil.
Belatedly, and silently berating herself for being so slow, Wendra reloaded the rifle.
As she slipped the last cartridge into the magazine, another single sharp purple feeling jabbed at her from somewhere, and was gone.
Wendra glanced around quickly, but the hazy clouds above the stead remained unchanged. The three younger nightrams had eased back to the main flock, and the ewes had closed up, with the rams forming a loose perimeter around the flock. But, so far as she could see or Talent-sense, there were neither sanders, nor soarers, nor sandwolves. Nor were there any more of the strange Talent-creatures.
She continued to watch and sense, but nothing happened, and the nightsheep began to graze once more, if cautiously. So why had she felt the stab of purpled emptiness after she had killed the dark sanders that had not felt like sanders?
After a moment, she eased off the glove on her left hand and studied the black crystal of the herder's ring. She sensed nothing, but she knew she had felt something. Or had Alucius felt something?
The crystal was warm, and there was no sense of danger or pain, as had been the case when he had been injured. She replaced her glove and studied the flock.
Alucius was all right. Of that she was confident. But she still worried, both about him and about the dark sanders—and why they had come after her. Because they were replacing the older, more greenish sanders? Or because she had become more adept with Talent? Or both?
Chapter 34
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Before even thinking about seeking out the marshal for debriefing, Alucius made sure that Fifth Company was settled into the way station at Ghetyr—two buildings within a stockade with a well and watering troughs. The lancers' barracks consisted of little more than a long shed with straw mattresses on plank platforms. At the west end of the barracks were the officers' quarters—six cubicles without doors. Each officer's cubicle had a bunk platform with a straw mattress, a stool, and two planks attached to the wall and supported by timbers to serve as a writing desk. The other building was the long stable, with a roof that had seen far better days and probably leaked.
After having groomed the gray and left his gear in one cubicle, Alucius went to find Marshal Frynkel. The marshal was not in the barracks building or in the stable. Alucius found both the marshal and Captain Geragt standing in the last light of a setting sun in the northeast corner of the stockade, well away from anyone else. Alucius stopped a good five yards away.
"Majer, come and join us," Frynkel called.
"I didn't wish to intrude, sir."
"You aren't. We were talking about those… creatures."
"Wild sandoxes. Or Talent-infused sandoxes," Alucius said as he joined the other two.
"You think so?"
"They're close to the ancient illustrations, except for the horns," Alucius said. "They're bigger, too, I think."
"You'd run across both types of creatures before?"
"No, sir. We were attacked by wild pteridons and wild sandoxes on the return from Deforya. Until today, I'd never seen those giant black cats."
"They look familiar… somehow," mused Frynkel.
"They look like a dustcat might, if it were larger and black, with longer claws."
"Thank you. I knew I'd seen a drawing or something like them." Frynkel nodded, as if relieved to recall the similarity. "Why do you think the creatures are supported by Talent or magic or whatever?"
"Well…" Alucius paused for a moment before continuing. "Because they have a feel that's similar, but not the same, to soarers and sanders—and to the pteridons that Aellyan Edyss had. And they react the same way as the pteridons did when they were killed—exploding in those blue flames." He tilted his head. "It could be something else. I don't know for certain, but that's what they seem to be."
"I must admit… when I read your report several years ago… I had some doubts about your encounter on the return from Dereka." Frynkel laughed harshly. "I would rather have not had to confirm personally that such creatures do exist."
Geragt offered an affirming nod.
Frynkel looked at the Southern Guard captain. "If you wouldn't mind inquiring about whether the cooks are going to fix something, or whether we're on field rations…?"
"Yes, sir. I'll see what I can find out." With a smile of relief, Geragt nodded, turned, and departed.
Geragt's sense of relief confirmed for Alucius his feeling that Frynkel had not been totally pleased with Geragt about something, probably his handling of the Talent-creatures.
Frynkel waited until the other officer was well away before speaking again. "Majer, as I mentioned earlier, I noticed that you and your men were ready for those creatures. I also noted that the shots from Eighth Company seemed to have little effect."
"Yes, sir. Part of that was because I'm a herder. We learn to listen to our feelings. I felt something was going to happen. I couldn't have said what. So I called a drill for a formation I'd found useful on the Deforyan campaign. That was to bring forward the best marksmen so that they would be in position. I'd have to say that the reason our shots had more effect was that we use larger shells. They don't carry as far as those used by the Southern Guard, but we found them to be more effective against the pteridons at Dereka."
Frynkel chuckled. "Why is it that everything you say makes perfect sense, and that I'm certain that I'm still not getting the full story?"
"Because you're not," Alucius admitted. "I can't explain to you why I feel what I do." That was absolutely true, but not in the way that Alucius hoped Frynkel would take it. "I don't think any herder could explain why we feel what we do. We've survived because of what we can sense and feel. That's one reason why the Northern Guard has used those off of herder steads as scouts for generations. But it's not a skill that necessarily works well as part of a large
r organization. Can you imagine my trying to explain to you that I have feelings that you should heed? In the middle of a battle?"
This time, the marshal laughed more loudly. "I see your point. I also see why the Lord-Protector wanted you in charge of a force. You need the freedom to follow those feelings, and he needs the ability not to be directly responsible." He paused. "How did you manage with Majer Draspyr?"
For a moment, Alucius was lost, not following the marshal's question, before he caught the connection between it and the majer who had led the combined expedition into Deforya years earlier. "I acted, then explained. Majer Draspyr needed results, sir."
"I suppose that's why—" Frynkel broke off his sentence. "Never mind that. Can you explain why those creatures appeared in the middle of Lanachrona and attacked us?"
"Explain? No, sir. I suppose it's possible that the priests or whoever is behind the rebels of the True Duarchy found a way to call up these creatures and send them against their enemies. How they would know where we are or how to send them against us I have no idea." Alucius thought the idea was possible, but he doubted that was the reason, or the sole reason, behind the appearance of the Talent-creatures. Yet he also didn't see why the ifrits would send such Talent-creatures against Alucius himself when he was leading a force large enough to destroy the beasts.
"Neither do I, but that makes more sense than anything else. I don't like it, and the Lord-Protector will like it even less."
Alucius could imagine that. The Lord-Protector had more than enough problems already.
"It still doesn't tell us why this is happening now. Do you have any thoughts on that, Majer?"
"Something's happening. It has been going on since Aellyan Edyss and the pteridons. It could have started before that, but it's been more obvious in the past few years. There were the pteridons used by Edyss, and there were those that attacked us on the Deforyan road. Herders in the Iron Valleys have reported strange kinds of sanders on the steads. The Regent of the Matrial came up with the crystal spear-thrower. There are probably other things I don't know that you do. According to the histories, none of these things has happened since the Cataclysm." Alucius shrugged. "It means something. I just don't know what." Again, what he said was true. He didn't know, but he had a feeling that it was all tied to the ifrits, if he could but figure out how and why.
"You talk about feelings, Majer. What do you feel?"
Alucius thought for a moment. "It could be that the True Duarchists are right, that the times are changing again, and that there could be another duarchy."
"Is that what you feel?"
Alucius forced a laugh. "I feel that the times are changing. That's what I feel. How or why… I couldn't say."
Frynkel nodded slowly. "There are limits to those herder feelings."
"Yes, sir. That's why we don't say much."
"I can see that."
"Sir," called Geragt. "The cooks are working on a stew… but it will be more than a glass."
"Well… come on and join us. We might as well go over tomorrow's ride."
Alucius had no illusions that the marshal had given up on trying to see if he could use Alucius's senses as a herder to discover more about the dangers facing Lanachrona and the Lord-Protector. Frynkel wasn't the kind to give up.
Chapter 35
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At Marshal Frynkel's request, on Londi midmorning, Alucius rode at the head of the column beside the marshal. The sky had cleared and was a brilliant silver-green. A pleasantly warm breeze wafted out of the southwest. Asterta was well above the horizon, but barely visible against the brightness of the sky.
Frynkel spoke softly, and he did not look at Alucius. "Several years ago, I talked to an overcaptain of the Northern Guard before a dinner at Arms-Commander Wyerl's home. He seemed intelligent, hardworking, knowledgeable, and extremely skilled in the use of weapons. He was tactful and could disagree so graciously that it was hard to get angry with him. Then, he went to an audience with the Lord-Protector and vanished. Now… this has been known to happen, I hate to admit. The difference was that the Lord-Protector was not relieved, but quietly upset. Several weeks later, the officer returned, unshaven, unkempt, and several other matters came to light. First, there was an explosion in the chamber of the Recorder of Deeds, and the Recorder died. Second, the health of the Lord-Protector's consort improved greatly, against all medical advice and understanding, and third, the overcaptain was rewarded and discharged as he had requested."
Alucius remained silent, wondering where Frynkel was leading.
"The Lord-Protector has expressed concern about not having the information that the Table once provided, but he has not raged over its absence, even though its lack has created many difficulties for him. Now… we are seeing many manifestations of great Talent in Corus—and the Lord-Protector agreed to the recommendation that the Northern Guard officer be requested to return to duty…"
Recommendation? Who could have made that recommendation? Alucius wondered, then decided to gamble. He turned in the saddle. "Why did you recommend that?"
Frynkel smiled. "Someone else made the suggestion. I thought myself wise enough to recognize its wisdom. Does who brought up the idea matter?"
"It might," Alucius replied, trying to think through the situation. Neither the Lord-Protector nor the arms-commander would need to recommend anything to Frynkel, and who else even knew what had happened?
"I had thought that myself, but we examined the idea closely, Marshal Alyniat and I did, and we thought it was good enough to bring before the arms-commander."
Alucius almost froze in the saddle as he considered the most likely person to have made that recommendation.
"You look a bit… pensive, Majer," mused Frynkel, his tone verging on the ironic.
Alucius focused his senses and Talent upon the marshal before he spoke again. "Might I ask if the one who suggested this was Waleryn, the brother of the Lord-Protector?"
"Why would he come to us?" replied Frynkel.
Because Waleryn must have wanted me away from the Iron Valleys, Alucius wanted to say, and that meant that the Lord-Protector's brother had been more deeply involved with the ifrits than Alucius had realized. Instead of revealing that, Alucius merely said, "You would know that far better than I, Marshal."
"And I had to ask myself," the marshal went on, as if he had not asked Alucius anything, "why would the Lord-Protector so readily accept the mere hope of services of a relatively obscure officer, enough to send a marshal on a journey of some five hundred vingts?"
Alucius waited, glancing at the long and straight road ahead, and at the scouts who rode a half vingt ahead.
Frynkel turned in the saddle, fixing his deep black eyes on Alucius.
"It wasn't a hope, Marshal," Alucius answered. "If we wish to be honest, I must point out that it would have been foolish, if not idiotic, for me to refuse that request. You know that, and so do I."
"Ah…" Frynkel continued. "That is even more to the point. And how does a former officer who is a herder know this?"
"Because he is a herder. Because the prices of nightsilk reveal more than any talk by officers or officials. Prices and their future contracts do not lie." Not for long, Alucius temporized silently.
For a moment, Frynkel was silent.
"People tend to forget that herders operate a business that relies not only upon unique animals, but also upon equipment and processes with very high operating costs. We have to look to the seasons and years ahead. A herder who does not will lose his stead."
"In that case, to what do you, as both herder and officer, ascribe your presence here? And mine?"
"More than a few people of power wish me here," Alucius replied. "That is most clear and does not require any great foresight."
"And why would they wish you here?" Frynkel pursued.
"The Lord-Protector and, I presume, the arms-commander wish me here because they trust I can deal with the revolt in a way that will not weaken Lanachrona's defense
s against the Regent of the Matrial."
"And what of others? Say, Lord Waleryn, since you did mention him."
"He wishes me here for his own purposes, which are not those of the Lord-Protector."
"I see you share the high opinion of Lord Waleryn held by a few others."
Alucius did not respond, since he had not actually been asked a question.
"What purposes might be ascribed to Lord Waleryn?"
"Anything that might enhance his stature or power."
"So he wishes you to fail, you think?"
"He may, but I would think he would prefer that I succeed, and that he judges my success will achieve the result he desires."
"For a comparatively young officer, you are cynical, Majer. Now… there is one other matter that has troubled me. The matter of the Table. The Table seemed impervious to most damage, If the records are correct, on more than one occasion over the centuries, large blocks of stone fell on it, yet it showed no damage. Then, seemingly for no reason at all, it exploded. And you returned to the palace. Equally striking is the fact that the destruction of the Table was taken so calmly by the Lord-Protector. "
Alucius shrugged. "I only met the Lord-Protector briefly, but he struck me as a man who would not brood or rage over what he could not control." He hoped—vainly, he suspected—that the marshal would not continue his probing for the rest of the journey to Tempre.
"That may be, but what role did you play in the Table's destruction?"
"Just how could I destroy something that had lasted centuries?" Alucius laughed. "You do me far too much honor, Marshal. I am a herder. I do know a little about Talent. All herders do, but I know nothing about how such a Table might work, and, in truth, I did not even know such a thing existed before I came to Tempre."
"I had hoped you would. There were reports that you were the one who dragged Lord Waleryn to safety when the Table exploded."
"I can tell you in all honesty," Alucius replied, "that I do not know how a Table works, but I pledged the Lord-Protector that I would say nothing to anyone about the task he assigned me. I can say that he did not task me with anything involving the Table or its use."
Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters Page 14
