Antiagon Fire ip-7

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  As the black-haired subcommander rode back to instruct the regiment, Quaeryt studied the road ahead. There were more southern pines in the woods flanking the narrow road than there had been nearer the river, but the vast majority of the trees looked to be hardwoods that had lost their leaves, and that might make surprise attacks easier to spot. You hope.

  As Quaeryt had expected, the imagers were largely rested, and by half past the first glass of the afternoon, they had cleared and smoothed the road a good three milles past the village that had served High Holder Chaelaet. Thin plumes of smoke rose perhaps two or three milles farther west, possibly from a village where they could spend the night, before resuming their efforts on Jeudi. That would require less effort on Jeudi, allowing the imagers more rest before possibly having to deal with High Holder Duravyt on Vendrei.

  Then, just as Quaeryt was congratulating himself, a pair of riders galloped toward the imager undercaptains and first company.

  “Hold on the imaging!” Quaeryt ordered Lhandor and Horan, who had been about to clear the next section of woods flanking the road and then to smooth and strengthen the roadbed.

  “Sir! Raiders in the woods. Captain Brehalt is falling back as ordered.”

  Quaeryt, wincing inside, turned. “Undercaptains Voltyr and Threkhyl! Forward!” He turned to Alazyn, who had ridden up to join him when he’d seen the riders. “Which battalion?”

  “Second. They’re standing by.”

  “Undercaptains, you’re to accompany second battalion, Major Vhessyn commanding.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Second battalion! Forward!”

  Even before Brehalt’s company was within three hundred yards, second battalion met and swept around them on the narrow road.

  Quaeryt and Alazyn waited for the captain to report.

  When he reined up, Quaeryt nodded to the subcommander.

  “What happened?” asked Alazyn.

  “Arrows from the woods. We never saw more than a handful of them, but they must have loosed five score arrows,” replied Brehalt. “Most missed. We’ve got three wounded. Don’t look to be serious. Even without your orders, going into the woods would have cost us more men, and likely wouldn’t have got many of them.”

  “Good thinking,” said Alazyn.

  Quaeryt nodded, but he wondered how many more attacks there might be as he looked down the narrow and winding road to the east.

  Waiting won’t get any imaging done. He cleared his throat. “Undercaptains Lhandor, Horan, stand by to resume imaging.”

  Less than half a glass later, with another quint of a mille clear and smoothed, and the regiment moved forward, second battalion returned.

  Voltyr and the major reined up before Quaeryt and Alazyn.

  “Sir,” reported Voltyr, “by the time we reached where the ambush took place, the attackers were gone.” He nodded to Vhessyn.

  “We followed some tracks, but there were only a score,” added the major. “They rode southeast along a path narrower than this road.”

  Southeast? The attackers might have come from Duravyt’s hold … or from one farther south and east. Quaeryt couldn’t immediately remember whose high holding that might be.

  Although only three men had been wounded in the initial attack, none seriously, Quaeryt decided to change tactics. He turned in the saddle toward Alazyn. “You’ve had experience in dealing with these kinds of attacks, I suspect. What would you recommend?”

  “I’d place the scouts a few hundred yards out, in plain view, set your imagers in the middle of the road just at the edge of the widened sections, with a company flanking them on each side.”

  That was similar to what Quaeryt had done on the way to Laetor, but he merely nodded. “Thank you. That’s the way we’ll do it from now on. If you’d assign your troopers…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Undercaptains … stand by while the regiment re-forms.”

  In little more than a quint, the road imaging had resumed.

  Even by the two quints past the fourth glass of the afternoon, when a trooper messenger reached Quaeryt with word that Skarpa and his regiments-and Vaelora-would reach them in less than a glass, Quaeryt and Alazyn had seen no sign of more attackers, and the village that he had glimpsed earlier in the day was in sight, less than half a mille away.

  49

  Jeudi followed the same pattern as Mardi had, with two more quick attacks on the regiments, although the imagers saw some of the attackers through the trees and brought them down with iron darts. Following that greater success in dealing with the attackers, after which the troopers found eight dead men wearing gray and black uniforms, there were no other attempts on the three regiments, and by Jeudi night Skarpa had all the regiments and the imagers bivouacked in the village less than a mille from Duravyt’s high holding, a holding seemingly without activity.

  Quaeryt and Vaelora shared a very small hut with Skarpa. All three were more than ready to depart on Vendrei morning-as expressed by Vaelora’s parting comment as she looked back at the village from the saddle of her gelding. “There’s much written about the pleasures of the simple life, but most of it was written by those who have not experienced it.”

  Skarpa rode toward Quaeryt and Vaelora, reining up beside them.

  “The scouts report that they’ve still seen no one near Duravyt’s hold, but there are tracks and deep ruts in the road beyond the gateposts and heading east. I’ve sent a company to follow them and report back what they find.”

  Clearing the last half mille to the hold gates was far easier than previous stretches, since there was only low brush flanking the road proper, as if Duravyt had kept the trees away from the road near the hold. Even so, when the column halted short of the two stone gateposts, the holding surprised Quaeryt, because it was far more like that of other High Holders, a small limestone palace of some age set on the top of a low rise with gardens around it, and only a low stone wall circling the bottom of the rise. The lane leading up to it was paved, and lined with trimmed evergreens of some sort. The gateposts held worked iron gates, gates that were open.

  “There’s no smoke at all from the chimneys,” said Vaelora. “No one’s there.”

  “Duravyt got word about what happened to Chaelaet. That’s clear,” said Skarpa.

  “But why wouldn’t he even meet with us?” asked Vaelora.

  “He didn’t trust Kharst,” replied Quaeryt. “For that, I don’t blame him, but he’s avoided meeting with anyone representing Bhayar, and he’s refused to reply to any written dispatches.”

  “He also avoided me when I rode out here,” added Skarpa.

  “There must be some other reason,” suggested Vaelora.

  Quaeryt had ideas about that, but no proof, only suspicions. “We’ll find out, sooner or later.”

  “Either way, we won’t like it,” said Skarpa. “How do you want to handle this? The same way as with Chaelaet?”

  “We might as well.”

  So Quaeryt and first company, with imagers at the ready, and carrying full shields, rode through the stone gates and up the gently sloping land toward the hold house. The only sounds were those of the riders and their mounts, the loudest of which was hooves on the stone paving. When they reined up short of the main entry, Quaeryt saw that while the windows were closed, they were not shuttered. He turned to Zhelan. “If you’d send a trooper to knock on the door.”

  Zhelan relayed the command, and a trooper dismounted and walked toward the door.

  Just out of caution, Quaeryt extended shields to cover the man. The trooper knocked. There was no response. After several moments Quaeryt called out, “Try the door.”

  The trooper did, with no result.

  “Stand back!” Quaeryt ordered.

  When the trooper did, Quaeryt imaged away the door, then asked, “Is there anyone there?”

  “Sir … it looks like the entire place is empty. I don’t see anything at all.”

  “Stand by.” Quaeryt turned. “Underca
ptain Khalis, Voltyr … you’re to make a quick inspection. Hold shields at all times.” He looked to Zhelan. “Five troopers to accompany them, if you would.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Less than a quint later, Voltyr, Khalis, and the others returned.

  Voltyr walked back to where Quaeryt had remained mounted, watching for a possible ambush or attack.

  “Sir … everything of value has been removed. They left older furniture and common items in the servants’ quarters, but little else.”

  Quaeryt nodded. “Thank you. Mount up. We’ll ride back down the lane a ways before we level the dwelling. Then we’ll inspect the outbuildings before we reduce them.”

  All in all, it took less than a glass to level all the structures, all essentially empty.

  As Quaeryt rode back to the gates, following the imagers and first company, he realized that to remove everything from such a hold on short notice required significant resources. A great number of men, mounts, horses, and wagons. Did the other local High Holders assist Duravyt … or does he possess that capability himself?

  When he returned to Skarpa and Vaelora, he gave a quick explanation.

  “We might as well push on,” replied Skarpa. “If we don’t give Wheltar notice, we might find him in his hold.”

  “The way matters are going, I have my doubts,” said Quaeryt.

  “I said might, Quaeryt.” Skarpa looked at the level top of the rise.

  Quaeryt had refrained from creating another column.

  “Almost a shame to destroy the hold,” added Skarpa.

  “We can’t play favorites, and there’s no point in leaving them some place where they can return without a high cost.” Even as he realized the necessity, Quaeryt hated the fact that he’d destroyed such a well-kept structure. Yet … what else can you do once you’ve started?

  “If this keeps up,” Skarpa added, “the only thing we’ll have for this whole campaign is some very angry High Holders and some very good roads for the locals.”

  “And for Bhayar’s troops and tariff collectors, since it appears likely he’ll end up owning all these lands … at least for a time.”

  “Maybe he should give some of them to Myskyl,” quipped Skarpa.

  “In time”-after we deal with Aliaro-“that might not be a bad idea.” Quaeryt glanced toward Vaelora, who had said nothing. She was still looking at the empty low hilltop. While he wondered what she was thinking, he did not ask. Belatedly, he realized that she had never actually seen the imagers create such destruction. She’d only seen the results after the fact.

  The regiments had just covered a few hundred yards from the hold gates when Quaeryt and Skarpa saw the company sent to scout the road returning. Skarpa called a halt, and they waited for the company officer to rein up and report.

  “What did you discover, Captain?” asked Skarpa.

  “The wagons and the riders from here only rode a half mille east. Then they took another road south, sir. It looks to head for the gap in the hills there. The part of the east road leading to the south road is a good road. The road south is even better and much wider…”

  Leading right through the Lohan Hills into Antiago.

  “They must have had more than a score of wagons, and there are tracks headed both ways. Some of the wheel ruts on the shoulder are shallower. I’d guess that they must have made several trips carrying things. The border is only about two milles south of the east road. At least, there are posts there with an ‘A’ cut into them. The road looks even better on the other side. We didn’t ride past the pillars, sir.”

  “Good. Anything else?” asked Skarpa.

  “No, sir. We didn’t see anyone. No guards or sentries.”

  That observation chilled Quaeryt more than anything else.

  “Thank you, Captain. You and your men may return to your battalion.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the captain had eased his mount away, Vaelora urged her mount forward, closer to Quaeryt and Skarpa. “So they retreated into Antiago. What do you think that means?” Her quick glance at Quaeryt suggested she had a point beyond the obvious with the question.

  “That they know they’re welcome there,” said Skarpa. “Or that Aliaro can’t do anything to them. Either way…” He paused. “But why? Kharst wasn’t pressing them that much.”

  “Maybe he was, and maybe he couldn’t do much with everything else facing him,” replied Quaeryt.

  “Maybe he wasn’t that good a ruler,” suggested Vaelora.

  “I think we’ve already established that,” replied Quaeryt. “In a way, it all makes sense. There’s really no other place to trade or to obtain goods.”

  “What about Ephra?” Skarpa frowned.

  “You haven’t seen the place. It’s almost fifteen milles from there to the river, and two milles across and downstream. They’d have to pay to get goods carried to and from the port … and Geusyn doesn’t offer that much for trading. If Aliaro offers the High Holders some sort of accommodation, they can trade with the towns just south of the hills. They provide a buffer against Kharst … and Aliaro can always deny that he knew anything about it.”

  “So they’re really Aliaro’s High Holders as much as Bovaria’s?” prompted Vaelora.

  “More, from what I’ve seen,” rejoined Skarpa gruffly. “Well … we might as well push on and see what we find at Wheltar’s holding.”

  Quaeryt suspected they all knew what they’d find … or what they wouldn’t. But they needed to prove that before he, Skarpa, and Vaelora could decide on their next steps.

  50

  Over the next week, the imagers widened roads and visited three more empty high holdings. At each holding, there were tracks and traces heading south. Quaeryt and the imagers leveled them all. When they finally returned to Geusyn, with the regiments, it was more than a week later, and Skarpa, Vaelora, and Quaeryt met once more in the small plaques room in the River Inn after dinner on Vendrei evening.

  “We’re almost a week into Fevier, and we’re in no better position than we were a month ago. You and the imagers have destroyed five high holdings, but gained little in golds and no allegiance.” Skarpa took a deep breath and then a swallow of the beaker of lager before him. “Except we can’t do anything more because they’ve all crossed the border into Antiago. Every last one of them.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we went into Antiago,” suggested Quaeryt.

  “I’d ask if you’re serious, except I’m afraid you’ll tell me you are.”

  “I am. We could send dispatches to Aliaro, but he’d just reply politely and say that he doesn’t have any control over Bovarian High Holders and if they choose to visit lovely Antiago, he certainly can’t stop them.”

  “Deucalon will claim the Autarch hasn’t done anything against us,” Skarpa pointed out.

  “Oh … he hasn’t. Outside of sending troopers and Antiagon Fire against us in support of Kharst. Or attacking Telaryn ships in the open Gulf. Or harboring five High Holders who failed to pay tariffs to either Kharst or Bhayar,” replied Quaeryt, “and who not only failed to pledge allegiance to Bhayar, but fled rather than do so.”

  “He’ll claim that we didn’t ask Aliaro for their return.”

  “He probably will,” admitted Quaeryt. “But Aliaro will delay answering and then admit to nothing while readying his defenses, his imagers, and his Antiagon Fire. He might even make noise about the fact that Bhayar can’t even control his own High Holders. Bhayar wants control over both Antiago and Khel, and he can’t get Khel unless he takes Antiago. The longer he waits, the more men and time it will cost. And Aliaro has already raised arms and ships against us when we did nothing against him.”

  “You’re intent on invading Antiago, aren’t you?”

  “How many troopers did we lose and how many did Deucalon lose by following Myskyl’s advice?”

  “Thousands,” admitted Skarpa.

  “If we’re successful, is Bhayar going
to give Antiago back to Aliaro?” asked Quaeryt.

  “After the way Aliaro treated our sister?” added Vaelora sardonically.

  “And if we’re not successful?”

  “Doing nothing but sitting and waiting will be considered failure. Is there an alternative with Deucalon and Myskyl waiting for us to fail?”

  “If we succeed, Khel will have to agree to terms,” said Skarpa slowly. “We either succeed mightily … or fail grandly.”

  “Do we really have another choice?” Given who we are?

  “How do you plan to attack Antiago?”

  “Quickly … and without warning. There are only five major cities, and that’s if we count Kephria, which might not even be a large town. We take them, except for Westisle, which we can’t because it’s on an island … and take Aliaro … and try to make people understand that we’re not out to destroy them personally.”

  “That’s…” Skarpa shook his head.

  “Harder than it sounds,” Quaeryt admitted. “And I could be wrong.” And you often are. “But I can’t believe Aliaro’s liked all that well.”

  “Few rulers are. Don’t you think the Khellans would agree to terms anyway?” asked Skarpa.

  “In a generation or so when the land is overrun with opportunists and shady merchants … except it won’t go on that long, because the merchants and traders will all be petitioning Bhayar to do something because the Pharsi will be either driving them out by better trading or removing them by quiet force.”

  “What about Khaern and the rest of Eleventh Regiment? How soon do you expect them to return?”

  “It could be within the week. It could be two weeks. It depends on the winds and the sea state.”

  “When do you want to start this assault? Tomorrow?” asked Skarpa dryly.