Corean Chronicles 3 - Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  He and Wendra dropped into the chill, almost welcome after the heat of the Table building. With each use of the ley lines, the world lifeforce lines, Alucius was becoming more aware of what lay outside and above—and of where Wendra was. They eased themselves to a point that looked—through the wavering silver barrier—to be behind a stand of scrub brush less than forty yards uphill from the waiting lancers. The silver flashed away from them.

  They stood in the slanting light of the first glass past dawn, dew still on the shadowed sparse grass and the leaves of the scrub oak. Just a glass. Alucius was always amazed at how quickly some things happened and how slowly others did.

  "Ahhhh…" The first syllable was Alendra's.

  "She's hungry," Wendra said wryly. "She's had her adventure, and it's time to eat."

  "Let's let them know we're back."

  They turned downhill and stepped out from behind the brush.

  "Dhaget! Fewal!" Alucius called.

  "Sir. We heard shots. Are you all right?"

  "This time."

  "That's because you didn't do it alone," murmured Wendra.

  Alucius could hear the smile in her words. "You don't have to remind me."

  "Oh, yes, I do. We still have to deliver some scepters."

  Alucius felt a chill run down his spine at her words. "As soon as we get some respite. And you feed our little friend."

  Wendra nodded.

  Wendra's words had reminded Alucius of how little time they had. Days before, there had only been four ifrits. They had found ten, and he had no idea how many were elsewhere, in Prosp or Norda.

  Dhaget and Fewal rode uphill and met the two herders halfway.

  Dhaget looked at Alucius for a long moment, then at Wendra. So did the other three lancers. Alucius glanced at his wife. He didn't see any great difference… except… he thought that she seemed somehow… more alive… a little larger than life.

  There wasn't much Alucius could do about that. He took Wendra's rifle, checked it, and slipped it into her saddle case while she mounted.

  "You're missing a rifle, sir," observed Fewal.

  "I left it inside the stronghold. I'll get it when we go back." Alucius mounted the chestnut. He turned to Roncar. "I'd like you to ride back to headquarters and have Majer Feran join us. We'll also need a heavy wagon to move some gear back to the post."

  "Yes, sir." Although a puzzled expression crossed the lancer's face, he nodded acknowledgment and turned his mount back toward Salaan.

  Alucius and Wendra rode slowly back across the meadow, then turned west on the lane through the apricot orchard, followed by the remaining three lancers.

  Faisyn met them near the end of the orchard—almost at the spot where Alucius had tied the chestnut when he'd first investigated the Table building.

  Like Dhaget, Faisyn studied Alucius for a moment before speaking. Then he gave the minutest of headshakes. "Sir? We heard shots a while back… but no one came out. I had second squad order the ostler and the folks in the other building to stay inside."

  "Thank you. I should have thought about that," Alucius admitted.

  "If I might ask… sir."

  "Oh… they're dead. All of the Talent-twisted ones."

  "Talent-twisted?"

  "You'll see. Talent can be used for good or evil, just like most abilities. Those who use it for evil… it does something to them." As he spoke, Alucius realized that, for some reason, he seemed to be sitting higher or straighter in the saddle. He didn't recall looking down at Faisyn quite so much. He glanced sideways at Wendra, realizing that she was larger… all over, not by that much, but enough so that she probably stood a half a handspan taller, yet her garments did not seem tighter. Alucius concealed a frown. How could that have happened? "Oh… sent Roncar to get Majer Feran and a supply wagon. There's equipment in there, and some other things that belong to the Guard."

  "Yes, sic."

  Alucius looked at Wendra, who was patting Alendra, and gently bouncing her, clearly trying to mollify a hungry child who was unlikely to be pacified much longer. "Where do you want to feed her?"

  "Out here. For now."

  Alucius understood, He turned back to Faisyn. "Why don't you come inside? You can see what happened." He turned in the saddle. "Dhaget, if you and the others would stay with my wife? "

  "Yes, sir." Dhaget's expression conveyed a definite impression that he doubted Wendra needed much protection.

  Alucius wondered at the reaction, because Dhaget hadn't seen Wendra even using weapons, not that the lancer's impression was totally wrong, but Wendra would be slower to react while breast-feeding.

  Faisyn and Alucius rode toward the Table building, trailed by a half squad of lancers. They reined up just short of the stone walkway to the door. The senior squad leader dismounted, following Alucius. Alucius carried his rifle toward the entry, although his Talent sensed no one in the building. Still, so long as the Table was operational, other ifrits could appear.

  As he neared the half-open doorway, Faisyn's mouth opened as he saw the dead ifrit.

  "That's what the Talent-twisted look like when they don't hide behind a Talent-illusion," Alucius explained. "There are more inside. They're dead." He opened the door and stepped over and around the dead ifrit.

  Faisyn looked at the two fallen ifrits in the foyer before his eyes drifted to the ravaged side of the archway, and the once-molten and since-hardened drops of stone and ceramic on the floor.

  The two walked into the conference room, where the heat continued to well out from the iron stove against the wall. Alucius blotted his forehead again. "They like it warm."

  "It is hot." Faisyn looked to the side wall behind the archway, where Alucius's other rifle rested. "That's yours, isn't it?"

  "I left it here. I didn't see any sense in lugging it back."

  The squad leader's eyes dropped to the two bodies on the far side of the conference room.

  "There are five more on the stairs and in the lower room," Alucius said.

  Faisyn stopped. "Looks like you scarcely needed us, sir."

  "You saw the one by the doorway. If there had been more…" Alucius left the rest of what he might have said hanging. "We were lucky."

  Faisyn shook his head. "Sir… Colonel… I'd not be arguing with you, but… if you'd been counting on luck, you'd have been buried long ago." He straightened up, surveying the room, then walked to the staircase and looked down. "Pretty big fellows… even the woman there." He paused. "Your wife shot some, too, didn't she?"

  "About half, maybe more. She's very good."

  "You wouldn't have brought her if she wasn't."

  "I didn't want to," Alucius admitted.

  Faisyn shifted his weight from boot to boot.

  "You can go outside, if you want," Alucius said. "I need to wait here, just to make sure someone else doesn't try to sneak in through the underground entrance down there."

  "You want two of the men here?"

  "Two should be enough." Alucius walked to the window and opened it wide. Then he pulled out one of the chairs and seated himself. "If you'd leave the front door open."

  "Yes, sir."

  On his way out, Faisyn dragged the one ifrit back into the foyer.

  Shortly, two troopers appeared. "Sir?"

  "Inhere."

  Alucius recognized only one of the two, the generally hapless Sylat. "You can sit down. We're just here waiting for Majer Feran… and to make sure none of the Talent-twisted sneak in from down there." He inclined his head to the stairwell.

  More than a glass passed before Alucius heard the wagon drive up. During that time, he drank almost an entire water bottle.

  Alucius could sense that Wendra accompanied Feran. He stood as his wife and the majer entered the room. "Sylat… you two can report back to your squad leader."

  "Yes, sir."

  The two lancers inclined their heads to Feran and slipped out.

  Feran waited until the three of them stood alone. He studied Alucius. "It's stil
l you, isn't it?"

  "Same man who played leschec with you in Emal, when you complained that you didn't see why you bothered," Alucius said dryly. "Same officer who watched you go off griping about protecting an oilseed works… owned, as we later found out, by Yusalt's esteemed father."

  Feran nodded. "You're different. The same, but different."

  "Come on down the stairs. You'll see why."

  Feran looked at the dead ifrits more closely. "Those… what are they? I've never see people like that."

  Alucius caught the amused smile that flitted across Wendra's face. "That's what someone truly twisted and possessed by Talent looks like. The one second from the end was Tarolt. He just projected an illusion when he met people. That was probably why he didn't meet that many people. It took too much effort. There are five more down below." Alucius led the way. Feran followed, and Wendra came last, patting Alendra with one hand, her rifle in the other.

  Once in the lower room, Feran gestured toward the black lorken-framed oblong. "Is that one of those Tables?"

  "Yes. Tarolt built one here. That's how he knew where people were."

  "Can you use it?"

  "Probably," Alucius said, "but using it for long turns people into… those."

  An expression of distaste crossed Feran's face. "The more I find out about Talent… the less I like what I discover."

  "Talent's like any other form of ability. It's easy to misuse, and the results are ugly when it is."

  Feran gestured toward the body of the largest ifrit. "Never seen anyone that big before. You think he was someone important?"

  Alucius looked at the dead ifrit. "He was the most powerful one. I don't suppose we'll ever know who he was." After a moment, he walked over to the five chests set in front of the Table. He opened each of the lids in turn, revealing the contents.

  Feran surveyed them. "There must be thousands of golds…"

  "Close to ten thousand, I'd guess," Alucius said.

  "They had that much… and they let… the Council… ?"

  "Some of it they got later, I think, but they never would have let the Council know."

  Feran's lips tightened. "They make hogshit smell sweet."

  Alucius nodded.

  "What do you plan to do with the golds?"

  "I'd like to buy back our independence, but it's too late for that. We'll send a third of it to the Lord-Protector and we'll keep the rest to pay for moving the Northern Guard to Iron Stem—and for equipment and supplies. We'll be honest. We'll tell the Lord-Protector. He'll be happy to get three thousand golds. He's already agreed to the move, and now it won't cost him."

  "You don't think he'll want more?" asked Feran, skepticism evident in every word.

  "After what we've done? I don't think so." Alucius laughed. "Besides, who would he send to collect it?"

  In turn, Feran laughed. Wendra smiled.

  The silence drew out.

  "You're not finished, are you?" Feran said slowly.

  "No."

  "I didn't think so. You have that… air."

  "I'm going to ask you for yet another indulgence and favor," Alucius said. "I'll need a guard posted around the building. They're to stop anyone from leaving until Wendra and I return."

  "Where are you going? How long?"

  Alucius gestured to the Table. "They can be used for travel. With Talent. There are two more of these." He gestured to the dead ifrits. "And a number more of those Talent-twisted."

  "And I suppose you two need to save Corus from them?"

  Alucius forced a laugh. "Something like that." He paused. "Do you want another bunch like the prophet's lancers or the Matrial's torques?"

  "These… did that?"

  Alucius nodded. "And more. They brought those pteridons and skylances we fought in Deforya." Alucius didn't mention that they'd brought them millennia earlier. They had brought them, and it didn't matter when.

  Feran was the one to laugh. "If it were anyone but you, anyone at all…"

  "Thank you."

  "When are you leaving? How long will you be gone?"

  "As soon as we can. We won't leave until we eat, and until the lancers have dragged out the bodies, and until you're ready to take the golds back and lock them up. I think it would be better to get some oil and burn the bodies."

  "So do I. But I'd like all the squad leaders to see them."

  Alucius nodded. "Post sentries outside. Don't let anyone out but Wendra or me."

  "They couldn't create an illusion like you?"

  "It wouldn't be very good. Any of them who knew me are dead. I don't think any of them even know about Wendra. Not yet."

  "It's been quite a month, Colonel. Quite a month."

  Not nearly so much of a month as it would be, reflected Alucius—one way or another.

  Chapter 154

  « ^ »

  Just after late midmorning in Salaan, Alucius and Wendra stood between the archway to the stairs and the Table. Each had one of the heavy scepters recovered from the ifrits, but each scepter was strapped to an empty sabre scabbard, secured with a tie around the leg just above the knee. The power of each scepter, black and silver, seemed to cast light and shadows, but light and shadows seen only with Talent.

  "You think the scepters will show us where the master scepter is?" asked Wendra. "The one the soarer told us to find?"

  "I don't know, but if it's a master scepter, it has to be stronger than these, and we could sense these halfway across Corus, once we knew what we were looking for."

  "If it's not in a case, or shielded," Wendra pointed out.

  "We'll have to risk that."

  "Risk what?" asked Feran, coming down the steps from the conference room.

  "Not being able to do what we have to," Alucius replied.

  "You look… armed." Feran's eyes went to the scepters. "Those… they don't feel right."

  "They aren't. That's why we need to return them."

  "You're not going to explain more, are you?"

  "It's better that we don't."

  Feran raised his eyebrows, but didn't reply.

  In addition to a scepter, Alucius and Wendra each carried a herder's rifle. All the cartridges they carried had been heavily infused with life-force. Alucius had strapped a cartridge belt over his nightsilk herders' vest. He had decided against wearing the heavy riding jacket, based on the heat in the Table building and the soarer's statements that the ifrits' world was far warmer than Corus. Both he and Wendra carried water bottles as well as travel food within their garments, and Wendra had folded extra cloth and clothing for Alendra around and inside her jacket and tunic.

  Feran stepped to one side. "All you want is a guard around the building?"

  "That's right. Not in here."

  "How long will you be gone?"

  Alucius shrugged. "I don't know. A day, a week… If we're not back in a month, then you'll have to worry about the… Talent-twisted ones yourself." He'd almost said ifrits, but the word would have meant little to Feran. "Their clothes are like nightsilk, except stronger. Head shots are best. Right now, I don't think there are any left west of the Spine of Corus. There are two Tables in Lustrea, and an old Table in the ruins of Blackstear, not that there's any way for the Northern Guard to reach any of them."

  "What do we do here, if you… ?" Feran didn't finish the statement.

  Alucius understood. "Use enough powder to fragment the entire building and drop it around the Table. Explosives won't destroy the Table, but rock piled deep on top of it will keep it from being used."

  "Hope it doesn't come to that," Feran replied.

  "So do we."

  Wendra offered a tight nod of agreement. Within the carrypack, Alendra waved a small fist.

  Alucius jumped onto to the Table, then offered a hand to Wendra. She took it, and they stood side by side on the Table. Alucius nodded to Feran, then concentrated on the darkness of the translation tube beneath them. He and Wendra began to sink into the Table.

  The purpled b
lackness of the ifrit tube was every bit as chill as Alucius had recalled, a bone-biting cold that combined with a sense of foreboding. He focused on the deep and long purpleness that stretched endlessly into a faraway depth lost beyond the reach of his thoughts. He pushed away the idea that, once they pursued that purple tube, they would never return, and concentrated on reaching whatever lay in the distance, a distance that the soarers had suggested was farther away than some stars. In the chill of the purple tube, he sensed warmth—Wendra and Alendra—streaming with him.

  The chill blackness of the tube walls contracted, then twisted, and even though Alucius knew that his body could not move, he felt as though he were being pummeled by the sides of the tube, as though the very walls had projections that reached out and struck him, buffeted him, twisted and turned him. With each timeless instant, the chill that permeated him grew deeper, crept further inside him, slowed his thoughts. Yet he concentrated on that distant purpleness, a landmark, much as the Aerial Plateau had once been for a herder youth.

  Time passed in the timelessness of the translation tube, instants, years, both, neither… time unmeasurable by sluggish thoughts. Alucius clung to the goal, and to Wendra's warmth and presence, as he knew she clung to him and to Alendra.

  More time passed, and the intolerable chill of the tube and the purple blackness that surrounded the herders warmed slightly, and the purpleness became brighter. In the near distance, Alucius began to sense Table arrows, not just the handful of those on Corns, but a comparative plethora, as many as fifty.

  They had decided that they would simply try to get as close as they could to whatever resembled the scepter and showed great power, probably purple pink power. Except… Alucius couldn't sense anything like that. For all of the Table arrows, there were none of great intensity, none even as strong as the golden green portals of the soarers had been. All the Table arrows were faint—and none were of purple or pink. Yet all were close, and there seemed to be no way to tell which of them might be close to the master scepter.

  Feeling the chill again creeping into his bones, Alucius pressed toward the purple gold arrow, trying to convey that sense to Wendra. As his thoughts carried him toward that near yet faint arrow, he could sense Wendra's presence moving beside him.