“I need something to eat, and so do you,” replied Jessyla. “But first, we need to wash up. And you did promise Lhadoraak we’d meet them in the public room.”
Beltur managed not to sigh as he picked up the pitcher and headed for the door.
LXXXVII
By the time the traders’ party rode through the gates of the eastern wall early on fiveday morning, Beltur had laid out almost half a gold for lodging, food, drink, and stabling, while telling Lhadoraak several times just to hang on to his silvers, because the way things were going, his turn would come.
Possibly much sooner than you thought, Beltur told himself as the eastern wall slowly receded behind them. He glanced up at the sky, covered with high thin clouds just heavy enough to take any warmth out of the early spring sun.
“We likely won’t see any sign of brigands for close to a day,” said Jhotyl. “Then again, if they have an informer in the stable at the eastern wall, it could be within a few glasses. It likely won’t be any sooner because an attack close to the wall would make both the Axalt Council and the Prefect angry … and very suspicious of the tariff inspectors.”
Even with those words, Beltur continued to sense as far out as he could, beyond the evergreens that rose away from the road. A half kay or so along the road and downhill from the wall, a small stream flowed out from a ravine on the left. Beyond the stream, the ground was steep and rocky, but dotted with occasional spruces. To the right was a gradual slope toward a ridge a kay away, beyond which were much higher hills.
At that moment, Beltur realized, truly realized, that they had left Axalt. That meant he had to take care of something. He eased Slowpoke over so that he was riding close to Jessyla.
She looked at him. “What is it?”
“Now that we’re out of Axalt,” said Beltur, “I’ll tell you the last bit of the story about Sarysta. She didn’t die of a broken heart. I let Eshult think that because it was kinder, but that was a lie, and it bothers me. I removed some of her natural chaos.”
“I already guessed that. That was all it could have been. Evil people like Sarysta don’t die of broken hearts. You were trying to protect me, weren’t you?”
He shook his head. “I’m not that good. It would have protected you, but I did it to protect me.”
“That protected us both.” She smiled gently. “I’m glad you told me.”
“I said that I would.”
“That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Beltur was glad he remembered before she recalled that he hadn’t told her.
Less than a glass after leaving the wall, he began to sense men ahead, although at first, he could barely make them out, and he wasn’t certain whether they were travelers in front of them or possible brigands waiting for the traders.
As he rode, he studied the terrain on each side of the road, especially on the left side. Although the snow wasn’t nearly as deep as it was higher in the Easthorns and around Axalt, it was certainly at least knee-deep.
Then, after riding another quint, Beltur could sense that the men hadn’t moved, and he turned in the saddle and said to Jhotyl, “There are men ahead, near the north side of the road about a kay ahead, around the curve in the road that starts at that rocky outcrop on the right. I can’t tell exactly how many yet, but there are more than just two or three.”
“Are they mounted?”
“There are some horses there, but no one is mounted now.”
“What do you plan?” asked Jhotyl.
“Let them attack. There’s no way two mages can deal with as many as half a score brigands if they scatter, and we’d have to leave you unprotected. We’ll shield you and the horses, and take them out as we can. You just keep moving.”
“You just can’t kill them with chaos bolts?”
Beltur managed not to gape. “We’re blacks. We defend. We can use defenses to kill, if necessary, but the brigands have to be close. You hired us to protect you. That’s what we’ll do.”
“How many have you held off … before?”
“Over a hundred, but I’d prefer not to do that again.” That was more than true, but was misleading without explanations that Beltur didn’t want to get into, especially before dealing with possible brigands.
“Then do as you must. What do you suggest?”
“Ride as close to the lead wagon as you can. I’ll let you know if I need something else. Now, I need to tell Lhadoraak. He can’t sense quite as far as I can.” Beltur turned to Jessyla. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m going to send Tulya and Taelya up to ride with you.”
Then Beltur eased Slowpoke around, then patted him on the shoulder, saying quietly, “This might remind you of times better not remembered, fellow.” He rode back along the side of the road and pulled in beside Lhadoraak.
“You look like there’s trouble,” observed the older mage.
“There are men and horses up ahead around that curve. About a kay. They’re on the left right now. Can you keep a shield around Paastar and the horses when they attack?”
“For a while, if I’m riding close to him, but what about Tulya and Taelya?”
“They’re going to ride beside Jessyla. She’ll be on the far side of the first wagon when the attack begins.”
“I worry…”
“You need to concentrate on your shields and Paastar and his wagon. Jessyla and I will worry about Tulya and Taelya.”
Lhadoraak looked as though he might object, then nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“Good.” Beltur nodded, then turned in the saddle toward Tulya. “Let me have the lead rope for the mule. You and Taelya follow me.”
Before that long, Beltur had eased the mule forward and past the three wagons, if with the help of a few containments that limited where the mule could go, and was riding behind Jessyla and the spare mount.
“Tulya and Taelya are behind me. I’ve got the mule, but I can’t deal with him and the brigands. So it’s up to you and Tulya. I thought that if you three stayed on the stream side of the wagon, your shields should be strong enough to deal with any shafts that might go over the wagon and my shields.”
“We’ll work it out. You deal with the brigands. I think two of them have moved closer.”
“You can sense them?”
“Just barely.”
Beltur handed the mule’s lead rope to Jessyla then moved ahead and to the north side of the road, riding slightly forward of Jhotyl. He could sense that Jessyla had been right in that two figures waited closer than the other brigands to the oncoming trading party.
Halfway around the wide and sweeping curve, Beltur noticed that where the curve ended and the road straightened, the incline also steepened, and there was a whitish sheen to the road itself, unlike the dark gray of the nearer stones, and the sheen appeared roughly even with where the first of the brigands hid in the trees to the left of the road.
Why would the road shine—Ice!
Beltur turned to Jhotyl. “I think that part of the road where the brigands are waiting is covered in a layer of ice.”
“Those swill-sucking bastards…”
“I take it that we’ll have to cross the ice slowly.”
“If we don’t, we’ll end up in the snow on the left or in the stream on the right.”
“What if we just stop short of the ice?” asked Beltur.
“They’d like that, I’m certain.”
“How sure-footed are horses on ice?”
“They could break a leg if the rider isn’t careful.”
Beltur took a moment to sense just how many brigands there seemed to be. So far as he could tell, there were just eleven.
“Then it just might be better to stop short of the ice and let them come to us.”
Jhotyl frowned. “Why would that be better?”
“Two of them are in the trees just about where the ice begins. The others are some fifty yards farther along. We can deal with the first two, and the others will have to come to us.”
“Wha
t if they don’t?”
“Then Lhadoraak will stay here, and I’ll go down to them, very carefully. They’ll either attack, or retreat. If they attack, then I’ll deal with them. If they withdraw, then you can bring the wagons down slowly while I make sure they don’t change their minds.”
“Seeing as you’re taking all the risks…”
“Do you have a better idea?” asked Beltur. “If you do, I’d like it.”
Jhotyl shook his head.
“Then I’ll tell Lhadoraak and Jessyla the new plan.” Beltur once more turned Slowpoke and headed back to brief Lhadoraak.
Less than half a quint later, he was back at the front of the group, and riding slowly toward the clump of trees that jutted out from the sparse forest to the north of the road, a clump that concealed two men, some three hundred yards ahead. From what Beltur could tell, the icy section of the road began about twenty yards beyond the waiting brigands.
He kept close watch on the two groups of brigands, but neither moved as the trading party continued eastward. Once the distance narrowed to less than two hundred yards Beltur extended his shields. He could sense, but not see, that the first two brigands were crouched behind what appeared to be a large snowdrift between two trees, but that there were no tracks visible in the snow, suggesting that they’d approached from the forest and used a pine branch or something like it to smooth away traces of their presence.
“It’s too quiet,” said Jhotyl.
“None of them have moved yet.”
“Where do you want us to stop?”
“See that clump of trees there. Stop about thirty yards short of that, maybe a little farther.”
For Beltur, the moments seemed to drag as he and Slowpoke rode toward the trees, yet he was still surprised when Jhotyl called out, “Wagons! Halt!”
Beltur looked toward the trees, but neither man moved.
After a time, he called out, “You two, between the trees! Show yourselves.”
Still, neither man moved.
Beltur took a deep breath, then placed a containment around each man, holding it tightly, enough that neither could likely breathe easily, until he thought each might be close to being unable to breathe at all. Then he released both containments. One man turned, scrambling northward and away from the road. He had covered possibly ten yards of the twenty-five or so between the clump and the first trunks of the forest when he staggered, then fell with an arrow in his back.
The second man stood and, bow in hand, began to loose shafts at Beltur. The arrows hit Beltur’s shield and fell into the snow at the edge of the road. Then another group of brigands emerged from behind false snowdrifts some fifty yards east of Beltur and began to move up the slope, trying to stay close to the road. All carried bows, and wore blades in shoulder scabbards, which made sense to Beltur for anyone having to struggle through knee-deep or deeper snow.
None of them loosed shafts until they were about thirty yards away.
Those shafts also dropped short.
“You really don’t want to do this!” called out Beltur.
“We can wait all eightday!” called back a broad-shouldered man in what looked to be a coat and trousers made out of whitish leather.
Beltur dropped a containment around him, then let man and containment pitch forward into the snow.
“He can’t do that to all of us!” shouted another, drawing a blade and running toward Beltur.
Beltur formed another containment, well aware that he couldn’t hold ten containments at once, and let the second man drop into the snow as well. He forced himself to wait until the seven remaining brigands scrambled onto the dry stretch of road north of where the wagons had stopped. All of them drew blades and charged.
Beltur waited as long as he dared, then urged Slowpoke forward, creating a small shield in front of him, but one wide enough to strike all the attackers.
All of them went down, but Beltur barely managed to slow Slowpoke short of the ice. He turned, to see that four of the attackers were getting up, blades still in hand.
Abruptly, Beltur realized something else, although he had no idea from where he’d gotten the idea. Small containments don’t take as much effort. With that thought, he clamped vise-like containments around the throats of the four men trying to advance on Jessyla and the wagons.
In moments, if long moments, the four were grasping vainly at their throats. Then they began to fall.
Beltur forced himself to hold the containments until the four who had tried to continue the attack were dead. By that time, so were the men in the two full containments. Two of the men who had been flattened by Slowpoke and the shield were not moving, and eight black mists of death, likely unseen and unfelt by anyone except possibly Jessyla and Lhadoraak, had penetrated to the depths of Beltur’s bones.
The one brigand on the road who had survived scrambled away, leaving his blade on the paving stones, and plunged northward through the snow toward the trees. He was followed by the surviving man from the clump of trees.
Beltur found himself shaking in the saddle as he sat there looking down at the six bodies on the road. He didn’t look at the two in the snow.
“I thought you said you couldn’t kill.” There was an appalled tone to Jhotyl’s words.
“I didn’t say that. I said what blacks do is better suited to defense. I don’t like killing. And the way I have to do it is terrible.”
“What they wanted to do to us was terrible,” said Rhamtyl, the teamster of the lead wagon, who stood beside the wagon horse.
Beltur could sense the shock coming from Tulya, and what seemed to be sadness from Jessyla.
Taelya looked both puzzled and worried.
“The one with the arrow in his back is still alive,” said Jessyla.
“Just leave him,” said Rhamtyl, the usually silent teamster.
Beltur shook his head. “We might find out something from him.” Besides, for whatever reason, he never tried to attack us. “If Mheltyn can carry him back, I’ll go with him to make sure nothing happens.”
Bringing back the wounded man took more effort than Beltur would have liked, since he wasn’t about to ride Slowpoke over snow-covered ground that could conceal anything, but a quint later the wounded man, a youth, really, lay on his stomach on the rear tailboard of the lead wagon. The youth was so scrawny his ribs almost showed.
In the meantime, Jhotyl and his men had stripped the valuables, weapons, and coins from the dead brigands and then dragged the bodies into the woods.
The youth winced, but was otherwise silent as Jessyla used Beltur’s knife to ease out the arrow, and then sewed up the wound. After that, Beltur did his best to remove what wound chaos there was, although he knew there would be more by sixday, and for some time thereafter.
“He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s young,” said Jessyla.
Once the young man was sitting up on the tailboard, Beltur looked at him and said, “The wound wasn’t that bad. Why didn’t you move?”
The youth looked at Beltur. “You’re a mage, aren’t you?”
“Yes. So is Jessyla, as well as a healer. So is Lhadoraak. Now … why didn’t you move?”
“Vhister would have shot me again. If he thought I was dead, he might have just left me.”
“Vhister was the leader?”
“Yes, ser.”
“How did you know we were coming?”
“Vhister got word last night.”
“Who told him?”
“I don’t know. He goes up to the wall some nights. Most of the time, when he does, he either says we stay away from the road or that we might have good pickings.”
“How does he know when to go up to the wall?”
“I don’t know, ser.”
Beltur could tell that was a partial truth. “You have a good idea, though, don’t you?”
The youth sighed. “It’s just an idea. Once I started to ask him. He beat me so bad I couldn’t walk the next day.”
“Why didn’t you le
ave?”
“Where would I go? Vhister was my uncle. Only relative I had. What would I tell folks about what I’d been doing? You know what they do to brigands.” After a pause, the youth asked. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“If he was the one in the white leathers with broad shoulders. Now … how do you think he knew?”
“He seemed to look at the wall. Maybe it was the banners. It might have been something else.”
“What else did Vhister and his men do?”
“We all worked as timbermen when we could. There was never enough work. The trees are better in Axalt.”
Beltur looked to Jhotyl, who had said nothing, just listened. “Do you know anything about that?”
“He’s right. You’ll see when we get into the lower hills. Everything there is scrub pine or scrub oak. Up here, it’s too far to cart timber down to Corumtal and too hard and too costly to lug it up to Axalt. Only a few hamlets and villages. Not much need for a lot of timber.”
Beltur had more than a few other questions, but those had nothing to do with brigands, and he could tell Jhotyl wanted to get moving. He looked to the youth. “What should we do with you?”
“Ser … please take me to Corumtal, or anyplace else. Tie me up and stick me in a wagon. They’ll kill me if the cold doesn’t.”
Beltur looked to Jhotyl. “He never fired a single shaft at us.”
“It’s your choice, Mage.”
“Tie his hands in front of him.”
Jhotyl frowned.
“If they’re tied behind him, the wound won’t heal. Don’t worry. He won’t get free.”
“Magery?”
Beltur nodded. He watched as Jhotyl tied the youth’s hands. Then he eased free order into the ropes, linking the very strands together, in a way that even the sharpest knife would likely slip off the bonds.
“Into the wagon, boy,” said Jhotyl. “You’ve got a long rough ride.”
“Thank you, ser.”
“Don’t thank any of us yet,” said Beltur. “What’s your name?”
“Faeltur, ser.”
“You do anything remotely brigandish, and you’re in the snow with your hands still bound. Do you understand?”
Faeltur shuddered, then, using both hands, struggled into the back of the wagon.
Outcasts of Order Page 71
