Demyst frowned.
“He’ll be there. Or his patrollers will be. That’s where his golds are. If he’s not there, he’ll be at the fort off the east road.”
“Why there?” asked Erdyl.
“That’s where they can block any lancers from the north and east who might support Ostcrag and Osten.” “Do we know if they’re still alive?”
“I’d guess that at least one of them is. If they were both dead, Egen and the white wizards would already be holding the Quadrancy Keep.” “What about the other son-Vielam?”
“I don’t know. He favors Egen, I’ve heard. Doesn’t matter, though. Either Ostcrag survived the attack on the Quadrancy Keep, or one of the older sons did. Otherwise, Brysta would be crawling with patrollers and white wizards.”
Jeka grimaced, but said nothing.
Kharl rose. “We’d better get ready.” He turned to Khelaya, standing in the archway to the kitchen. “We’ll need some provisions, and I’ll need a hefty bag, and my water bottles filled with cider.”
A quizzical look momentarily crossed the older cook’s face.
Demyst raised his eyebrows in a different inquiry.
“It’s not much of a secret now,” Kharl said. “I’m an order-mage. I can’t keep using magery without eating a lot.”
“After last night, it had to be something like sorcery,” Khelaya said. “Never seen anything like that.”
Behind Khelaya stood Enelya, and the serving girl’s mouth opened. She shut it quickly, and her eyes went to Jeka, who gave the slightest of headshakes.
“We’ll make sure you have enough,” added the cook.
“Thank you.” Kharl hurried up to his chamber, where he donned a black riding jacket and quickly washed, before heading down and out to the stables. As he crossed the stretch of gardens, he glanced up. The clouds had lifted some, but had also darkened slightly, suggesting more rain later.
Mantar had the chestnut gelding saddled and waiting for Kharl. Demyst and Alynar were packing provisions into their saddlebags. Erdyl had already mounted, as had Sestalt, bruised as he was. Enelya stood to the side, holding several more bags.
Kharl looked to the serving girl.
“Jeka already packed yours, ser,” Enelya said quickly, not meeting Kharl’s eyes.
Kharl followed her glance to the side of the stable yard. Jeka was already mounted. She wore a gray jacket, and she’d cut her hair boy- short once more. Before Kharl could say a word, she spoke. “I’m going. I can run messages. Do stuff.”
Kharl didn’t say anything. He just stood there for a long moment. He didn’t want Jeka anywhere near the fighting.
“Don’t leave people,” she added. “Told you that once.”
She had. More than once. And Kharl had let Merayni take Warrl away for his son’s safety. Warrl and Merayni were dead. Who could protect Jeka at the residence if Egen sent men after her? He didn’t like the idea of her coming with them . .. but... with all the chaos and Egen’s viciousness, she well might be safer with him.
Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Stay out of the direct fighting. Thank you for taking care of the provisions.”
“Yes, ser. You got two bottles, both filled with the cider. I got three bottles, case anyone needs some.”
“Good.” Before mounting, Kharl used his order-senses to make sure that the saddlebags were indeed filled, but did not touch them, not wishing to suggest that he doubted Enelya or Jeka.
As was all too often the case, he was the last mounted. He looked to Khelaya and Mantar. “Take care.”
“That we will, ser.”
Kharl eased the gelding forward and past the side of the residence. As he rode past the sagging gates, he studied the street. The on-and-off rain of the night and early morning had dampened the ashes into a black- and-gray paste that mottled the ancient yellow bricks, but the few charred lumps that had been the men and mounts not totally turned to ash by Kharl’s magery had disappeared. Marks in the sodden ash indicated that a wagon had been used. Kharl suspected that Mantar and the gardener had taken care of that. He could worry about that later. He looked back at the residence. He still worried about those remaining in the residence, but Mantar insisted that they’d be safe, and that they could retreat to the cellar if need be.
“Don’t wait,” Kharl had said.
“No, ser, but there’s just ash out there now,” Mantar had explained with a smile. “A bit more rain, and no one’ll see anything except some blackened trees, and that happens when lightning strikes.”
Thinking about it, Kharl wasn’t so sure that the groom-driver wasn’t better prepared than Kharl was. Once well into the street, the envoy- mage turned the gelding downhill, then, at the next street, southward.
Demyst moved up alongside Kharl. “City’s quiet this morning. Can’t say I’d expect otherwise.”
“Everyone’s hiding and waiting.”
“WhatTl we be facing?”
“Several companies of lancers, and two or three white wizards. Maybe more of either.”
“We have to do this?”
“We don’t, and our children will be fighting Hamor in Austra.” After he’d spoken, Kharl realized that he didn’t have children, not any longer, and Demyst had never had any. “Or all those who do have children will.”
“Sad choice, ser.”
“Most are,” replied Kharl dryly.
As he rode, his eyes and senses alert, Kharl felt-more than once-the brush of chaos that meant a white wizard was trying to keep track of him. From what he could tell, all the white wizards around Brysta were in the same place to the south-unless one was using chaos-skills to hide himself.
He wanted to look back and see how Jeka was doing, but decided against it although he wasn’t certain he liked that she was riding with Erdyl. Then, he had his doubts about her coming, except that her staying behind might be even worse.
Ahead, near where the side street joined the south road, a young man looked at the riders, then sprinted across the bricks and into a single- story dwelling, whose shutters were closed. For just a moment, the echo of the slammed door drowned out the clopping of hoofs.
As they neared the southeast side of Brysta, the bricks of the south street gave way to the packed clay. Each step of the gelding threw up some mud. Because few had traveled the road since the rains had begun the day before, only parts of the road were muddy, and there were but a handful of deep wagon ruts.
On the less-traveled and unpaved section of the south road beyond the city, a company of lancers would chum up the road enough to stop any wagon, and after the first two or three companies traveled it, the later riders would have great difficulty traveling with any speed, and the lower-lying sections would become, if not impassable, places where men and mounts bunched into groups making their way through slowly.
“Road’s going to be slow from here on,” observed Demyst.
“It’s only a kay or so.” Kharl studied the small plots that were neither true holdings nor just gardens that now bordered the road.
To the east of the winding road, the low hills were covered with rocky meadows, and dotted with woodlots and odd-shaped fields. Farther ahead, the road turned due south to skirt the long ridge that overlooked the new patroller barracks and camp.
Kharl held up his hand and reined up. Somewhere ahead, coming up the back side of the hill just ahead, were lancers, more than a few, but not an entire company. “Close in! Right behind me!”
Before he finished his orders, the half squad of Hamorian lancers reined up on the low rise of a field to the east of the road and less than a quarter kay south of where Kharl had halted. As he watched, they drew weapons, blades he thought, until they raised them to their shoulders. More rifles.
Kharl hardened a space of air just in front of him.
Crack! Crack!.. .
The reports of the rifles sounded muffled. Abruptly, Kharl could feel the force of bullets on the air shield, leaching away some of his strength, if only a
slight bit.
As quickly as they had come, the lancers wheeled, then rode back over the rise.
Kharl released the shield. He reached for his water bottle and took it out, taking a long swallow of the still-cool cider before corking it and replacing it in its holder.
“Why’d they do that?” asked Demyst.
“To tire me out,” Kharl replied.
He sat in the saddle, thinking. The rifles changed everything, at least in the open field. Facing sabres or even crossbows, he could get close enough to use his order-magery-or his disorder-magery. With the white wizards tracking him with their sorcery, he couldn’t use a sight shield to get closer without the lancers seeing him-and they could keep firing at him until he was exhausted before he could ever get close enough-on the road or open ground.
He glanced toward the ridge ahead and took in the woodlots. From what he recalled, there was a narrow road through the ridge from the east. The ridge was steep enough that the lancers and patrollers couldn’t fire directly at him and his small party without getting close- very close.
“Ser?” asked the undercaptain.
“We’ll have to leave the road. We’re headed up toward that ridge, using the hills and woodlots for cover.” Kharl turned the gelding off the road and through a gap in the low stone wall that bordered the meadow.
He kept his order-senses looking for lancers, or patrollers, but could not sense any as they rode up the sloping meadow almost directly east. A slight gust of wind swept across them, bringing a few scattered drops of rain, then died away, as did the rain droplets.
As they reached the first woodlot, Kharl could sense no one near the trees, but to the south, another squad of lancers-or the same squad-was using the lower ground between the hill and the ridge as an approach to the road-to try another attack. Kharl smiled, because by the time the lancers reached a point overlooking the road, their quarry would be to the east and south of them, and the lancers would have to ride uphill to catch Kharl.
Still, he didn’t like the fact there were lancers between him and the ridge.
The woodlot ended just short of the flat hillcrest, and Kharl reined up while still in the trees, looking southward.
“We could follow these hills. There’s that other road,” Demyst said, pointing to the brown track a good kay to the south. “Cross the road and follow those hills on the south till we get to the gap in the ridge.”
Kharl nodded. At least until they reached the road, they would either be in the trees or close enough to cover, and mostly on higher ground than any attacker. He had to remember that his goal was not necessarily to kill lancers, or patrollers, but to get close enough to kill Egen and the white wizards.
They covered another half kay to the south before a company of mounted patrollers rode eastward on the narrow road through the ridge gap. Behind them were what looked to be several oblong, canvas-covered carts.
Kharl looked farther south. The next hill had an escarpment of gray stone that faced south and slightly west, and looked to afford some protection, at least for men on foot, and they could tie the mounts farther back in the woodlot.
“Can we make it to that next hill there, you think?” Kharl asked the undercaptain.
“Easy, ser. Won’t even take more than a fast walk. That grass down there is long, and the ground’s soft. Harder here near the crest. You thinking about that rock there.” Demyst grinned. “I was. Is there something wrong with it?”
“Not so long as we don’t let ‘em circle to the southeast and come up through the woodlot. Could trap us then.”
“We could have Jeka watch back there.”
“Might be a good idea.”
Kharl urged the gelding forward.
Demyst was right. Kharl and the five other riders reined up just above the jagged upthrust gray rocks before the patrollers had stopped riding the road. There were far more than Kharl had realized-a good three companies. The mage turned in the saddle. “Jeka?”
The former urchin and weaver rode slowly toward Kharl, then reined up. Kharl thought that she was far more graceful on horseback than he was, even though she’d only ridden twice in her life. “You want something, ser?”
“You said you wanted to be helpful. We need some help.” Kharl pointed to the southeast. “We’re going to see if they attack us here. We don’t want someone sneaking up the back side of the hill on us. Can you ride over to the edge of the woodlot there, on the higher ground, and keep watch. If they start something like that, ride back, but don’t come out of the woods. Just call out and let us know.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
“You want me to go now?”
“Be best if she does, ser,” suggested Demyst.
“If you would,” Kharl said to Jeka.
She turned the horse and rode steadily up the gentle slope until she was riding beside the trees.
After watching her for a long moment, Kharl turned his mount uphill toward the nearest part of the woodlot. By the time he had had tethered his mount well back in the woodlot, remembering to pull out his provisions bag, all three companies of mounted patrollers were drawn up on the flat to the north of the narrow road. Kharl hurried back downhill and into a position behind the rocks. Behind the patrollers, surrounded by two squads of lancers in the tan uniforms of Hamor, were the white wizards- three from what Kharl could tell.
“Like as they were waiting for us,” muttered Alynar from the rear.
Kharl had no doubts that they had been, not after having felt one of the wizards tracking them. He still didn’t understand why the patrollers and wizards were going to attack him. “If they waited,” he murmured, “we’d have to come to them.”
“Ser,” said Demyst, with a crooked smile, “they don’t know that. Best we don’t tell them.”
Still, Kharl wondered as he peered out through a gap in the gray rock. He would have liked to have gotten closer to the barracks as well. Something was happening behind the patrollers, with the carts, but Kharl couldn’t see exactly what it was. The mounted patrollers, their lines dressed, moved forward slowly across the flat, but less than a third of a kay before halting once more. That left them at the base of the slope, a quarter kay downhill from Kharl and his small party. Kharl could see that these patrollers also had rifles-every last patroller.
Thwump! Soil and rock and mangled vegetation exploded from the ground less than a hundred cubits below and to the right of Kharl.
“Cannon,” murmured Demyst. “Friggin’ cannon.”
What could Kharl do about cannon? If they tried to reach their mounts ... at least some of them, if not all of them, might get shot... or run down. And Kharl couldn’t do magery on the run, either. Thwump!
The second blast was to the left, but more like seventy cubits away.
Kharl forced himself to concentrate on the cannon. While they were too far away for him to affect with his order-senses, he had felt the mixture of chaos and order that had accompanied the shell and the explosion. Was there any way to channel that? To turn it back?
He could sense the expansion of chaos and the near-instant flight of the next shell-and it landed less than fifty cubits directly in front of the rock outcropping. Soil and rock fragments sprayed above his head. “Ser?”
“I’m working on it!” Kharl snapped. There had been a channel of order and chaos, the path that the shell had taken.
Kharl watched and waited, sensing the next shell.
The moment before it exploded, he focused all the energy, order and chaos, back along the flight path.
What seemed like a brownish red streak flashed back at the cannon, half-burying the weapon in rock and soil, and hurling the cannoneers aside. Kharl sensed at least one death, but focused his efforts on the second weapon.
This time, he not only returned the explosive force, but boosted it with a touch of released chaos-enough so that the second cannon, and the shells beside it, exploded in a gout of flame.
Cannoneers fled
from the third and remaining cannon.
Kharl sat down, slightly light-headed. He took a swallow of the cider and tore at the bread. After several mouthfuls, he looked over at Demyst. “Tell me if, or when, they start to ride uphill.”
“Yes, ser.”
Kharl kept eating, biting a chunk out of the hard cheese, glad that there had only been three cannon, and that the cannoneers of the third had fled. The effort of handling just two shells had almost exhausted him.
“Those Hamorian lancers, the ones in tan,” Demyst said, “they’re riding across the flat up behind the patrollers.”
Kharl could sense the growing mass of chaos on the flat below the slope. He took a last swallow of the cider and stood. Most of the light- headedness had subsided.
As he looked down through the rocks, he could see the patrollers beginning to spread out into a wider line, with more space beside each rider. None of them moved forward.
Kharl could sense three white wizards, but the three had linked somehow.
A single trumpet triplet sounded, and the patrollers started riding uphill. Their tactics were simple enough. Each patroller rode, then slowed and fired, then rode more quickly. The erratic nature of the advance would have made it difficult for anyone with a rifle or a crossbow to fire back effectively. But since Kharl and his small group had neither, the only effect was to make them to keep their heads down. And with fire coming from such a wide front, Kharl couldn’t erect a hardened air shield that would be strong enough and broad enough to protect them-not without exhausting himself within a fraction of a glass.
Whhssttt! A chaos-bolt arced uphill, aimed directly at Kharl. Caught half-off guard, he could only deflect it, but he was ready for the second one, and using the linkage back to the white wizard, he turned it back.
Instead of slipping inside the white wizard’s shields, it splashed across the linked shields of the three.
Kharl swallowed. He hadn’t thought about that effect. The back- linkage didn’t exist for the other two, and by linking their shields, they effectively blocked his technique.
Whhstt! Another firebolt flared uphill.
Knowing that the whites’ shields would hold, Kharl just redirected the chaos across the first rank of the patrollers, who were within three hundred cubits of Kharl.
Ordermaster Page 50
