“And you cannot construct one that might last more than a fraction of a glass?”
“They must be linked to nodes within the earth, Praetor, and I have yet to find where such a node might be or how to create such a link.”
“Then…this must do. For now.” The Praetor’s cold glance fell on the engineer. “So tell me—instead of saying how great you will be—what meant all those images.”
“I could but guess, Praetor.”
“Then guess.”
“Young Tyren is indeed fated to find and carry the dual scepter and to lead Alustre to greatness in reestablishing the Duarchy in power over all of Corus, but…he will face challenges from the other three.”
“Shadowy challenges? Or faint ones? Why were their images so indistinct?”
“Because, I would surmise, that all may have the ability to call up Talent. They have not, or I could not have summoned them in the mirror. They may never, but they have that ability.”
“We must find them and eliminate them. You must find them.”
“One wears the leathers of a rider of Illegea. I would surmise, although it is but a guess, that it is Aellyan Edyss. The second is a herder, possibly from the Iron Valleys, although he could be anywhere in Corus. The third—and faintest—is a girl, perhaps a young woman. She may not even have been born, so faint was that image.” Vestor’s eyes met those of the Praetor but did not flinch from the glare he received.
“You will create another mirror, and you will watch for those dangers.”
“Each one will shatter after use, I fear.”
“No matter. You will only use them when I am here, then.”
“And what of the golds for the equipment for your armies?”
“Oh…you will have that.” The graying Praetor smiled coldly. “We will need them to conquer Illegea, Aellyan Edyss or not.”
5
Alucius glanced back over his shoulder, looking westward in the twilight along a snowswept road that was visible only because of the three-yard-tall black poles on each side, each pole a hundred yards from the next. He could see no one following him, not that he expected to, since his Talent-senses revealed nothing living nearby—except for him and Wildebeast.
He looked at the way ahead, guiding Wildebeast to the right as the road made a sharp turn southward for the last two vingts before it reached Emal, descending through a natural cut in the river bluffs that followed the curve of the river.
After removing the skull mask, Alucius wrapped his black wool scarf more tightly around his face as he rode into the chill section of the road where direct sunlight reached but for a few glasses in winter. The sun had already set behind the river bluffs to the west, flat stretches of grasslands in four of the five seasons, but in winter an expanse of snow swirled into drifts by the unrelenting wind off the Aerlal Plateau, less than twenty vingts to the north.
Most of the troopers returning from furlough would travel the lower road along the river, but Alucius preferred the bluff road, cold as it was, because it took a full day and a half less than riding south to Dekhron and then taking the river road back east-northeast to Emal. As it was, even by the bluff road, the ride from the stead to Emal was a hard three-day ride, and could be as long as five days, if the roads were muddy, because once Alucius left Iron Stem and the eternastones of the high road, the way eastward was by the local clay roads. Winter travel did offer one advantage. The roads might be rough, but they were frozen as hard as the stones of the high road.
After Alucius passed through the cut and reached the flat section of the road below the bluffs, he could see the town less than a vingt away to the south, perched on a higher section of ground, a low bluff overlooking the now-frozen River Vedra. The arched stone bridge that crossed the narrows to the matching bluff on the south side was the only safe crossing of the river, except in winter, in the more than three hundred vingts between the point where the river gushed from beneath the head-wall of the Aerlal Plateau—some one hundred and twenty vingts generally east-northeast of Emal—and Dekhron itself. The Lanachronan community of Semal, that clustered around the south end of the bridge, was scarcely more than a hamlet, and the Southern Guard had stationed but a single squad there to guard the bridge—mainly to collect tariffs from what few traders there were. The pale off-white limestone walls of the hundred or so dwellings at Emal faded into the snowy backdrop of the fields on the bottomland barely above the flood levels of the river. On the other hand, the steep-pitched slate roofs—stark and dark—stood out, almost floating on an endless sea of white. Thin trails of smoke wound into the darkening silver-green sky.
Alucius rode past houses shuttered tight against the cold and the bitter wind off the plateau, acrid-iron bitter—as always. Glimmers of light escaped through cracks in the shutters, and the smell of burning coal made the northeast wind even more bitter. As Wildebeast carried Alucius down the main street, his hoofs crunched on the packed snow, snow that was more than knee high beside the houses.
The militia outpost stood at the south end of Emal, just above the river, on the low bluff that passed for a headland, guarding the high-arched and narrow stone bridge that spanned the Vedra. The outpost itself—unlike those in the north—was walled. The walls were not of finely dressed stone as in Madrien, but rather of crude blocks of all sizes and colors wedged and mortared in place. The ironbound oak gates of the outpost were open, and a single sentry from one of the two squads of the Third Foot stationed at Emal stood watch in a guardhouse just outside the gates.
The ranker stepped out of his shelter as Alucius neared the gates, his eyes peering through the dimness, then catching the militia winter parka.
“Captain Alucius…” Alucius slowed Wildebeast and took in the other, catching his self-identity, and adding, “Nyllen, isn’t it?”
“Ah…yes, sir. Couldn’t see you in the darkness, sir.”
“Have you seen anyone from Twenty-first Company?”
“Three or four came back today, sir. Senior Squad Leader Longyl came in, too. They’re in the barracks.”
“Good.” Alucius nodded and rode past the gates toward the stables.
A squad leader walked out of the duty room at the end of the barracks and across the end of the courtyard to the sentry.
“It was Captain Alucius, sir,” Nyllen said to the squad leader, adding in a lower voice that Alucius should not have been able to hear. “Does he recognize everyone?”
“Pretty near, Nyllen.”
Alucius reined up outside the closed stable door and was about to dismount when the door slid open. He dismounted and led Wildebeast into the comparative warmth of the stable while the ostler closed the door behind them.
“Cold evening it is, sir,” offered Vinkin, the head ostler at Emal, both for Twenty-first Company and for Fifth Company. “Some wondered as whether you’d be making it tonight. I said you’d be here. Weather doesn’t stop an officer who’s a herder.”
“Not this time, anyway,” replied Alucius with a smile.
“There’s grain and water waiting, Captain.”
“Thank you, Vinkin.” Alucius projected the slightest sense of gratitude and appreciation.
The ostler bowed his head in response.
Twenty-first Company had the stalls on the north side of the long stable, with the first stall being the captain’s. At times, Alucius definitely appreciated that perquisite of rank. This was one of those times.
Wildebeast shook himself, then whuffed when Alucius led him into the stall and started to unsaddle him.
“I know. It was a long and cold ride. Let’s hope we’ll have a few days before someone wants a patrol.”
Wildebeast didn’t respond to the comment, not that Alucius expected that of the stallion.
Once he’d finished with his mount, Alucius shouldered his saddlebags, picked up his rifle from where he had leaned it against the stall wall, and closed the stall door. He crossed the stable, nodding to Vinkin as he neared the small access door to the courtyar
d. Once he closed the door behind him, he started across the frozen clay of the courtyard toward the headquarters building, scarcely larger than a small sheep shed, for all that it contained rooms for three company officers, two rooms for visiting officers, and a conference room, a common washroom, and a kitchen and small mess for officers and squad leaders.
He stamped his feet on the porch, but since there was no boot brush, that was the best he could do to get the snow off his boots and trousers before stepping inside into the entry area. A single oil lamp cast a dim glow.
Another officer, wearing a black wool sweater over his tunic, appeared in the archway on the far side of the entry hall. “Glad to see you, Alucius.”
“Good to see you, Feran. I’m glad the journey’s over. It’s cold out there.”
“You took the bluff road, didn’t you?” Even in the dimness of the hall, the lines radiating from Feran’s eyes were deep enough to show his age—a good fifteen years older than Alucius.
Alucius nodded as he moved toward the hallway where Feran stood and along which his own quarters were located.
“You herders. If I took that road, they’d find me in a block of ice come spring.” The career militia officer smiled ruefully and shook his head.
“It’s two days shorter. That’s half a week more I can spend with Wendra.”
“Lucky man, there.”
“Anything happening I should know about?”
“We got a dispatch from Majer Weslyn on behalf of the colonel—something about the need to watch for raiders from Deforya sneaking over the river to the east.”
Alucius raised his thawing eyebrows.
“I know,” said Feran, with a laugh. “What’s there for raiders to take east of here? But that’s what it said. Nothing else, really. Not that affects us. There was a notice that there had been several Squawt raids west of Rivercliff.”
“There haven’t been any Squawts there in generations.” Rivercliff was some sixty vingts downriver from Borlan, and the Squawts had been driven west and north generations earlier. Rivercliff had even remained well within the borders of the Iron Valleys at the height of the Matrite War. “Sounds like Lanachronan raiders under Squawt colors.”
“You don’t think it’s a Matrite tactic?”
Alucius shook his head. “They don’t think or operate that way. They wouldn’t send out a raiding party of all men right now. They’d worry that some would defect. Even when the collars worked, they almost never had scouting parties of less than eight.”
“Don’t like that…Lanachronans, I mean.”
“I don’t, either.” Alucius paused. “When are you getting furlough?”
“Tomorrow—if most of your company gets back. The colonel wants all outposts at full strength before the turn of spring.” Feran stretched.
“I’d better let you get settled. You look sanded.”
“I feel sanded,” Alucius admitted. With a nod, he headed for his small officer’s room.
His spaces were all of three yards by four, with a bunk against one wall, a narrow wardrobe, two footchests—one for his clothes and one for records, an armless straight-backed wooden chair older than Alucius himself, and a cramped writing desk. The single narrow window was shuttered tightly, but the edges of the shutters were dusted with frost, and Alucius’s breath steamed in the chill room.
After using the striker to light the lamp in the wall bracket, with a little boost from his Talent, he unloaded the rifle and placed it in the wardrobe, then unpacked the saddlebags and smoothed out his clothes, hanging his three sets of uniforms in the wardrobe. While he unwound the scarf and loosened the winter parka, he did not take them off.
Then, Alucius sat down at the small desk in his tiny room to write a letter to Wendra. There might not be a messenger headed west for days, but that didn’t matter. He’d learned that he needed to write when he had time, not when messengers were there. As it was, the messenger would have to leave the letter at Kyrial’s cooperage in Iron Stem, and that meant it might be weeks before his words reached his wife.
He took out the copper-tipped pen from his kit, and the portable inkwell. After a time, he began to write.
Dearest Wendra,
The ride here was long and cold, but I was fortunate in not having to brave a winter storm. Already, I miss you and wish we were yet together, walking, or even working on the stead…
While Alucius had little news for her, he recalled all too well the years when he had had much news and no way to write.
6
Twenty-two men rode eastward along the river road, two scouts well ahead and out of sight, and then Alucius, Zerdial, and the rest of first squad. Alucius had left his senior squad leader, Longyl, at the post and in charge of the other squads.
The patrol followed the tracks of fifteen or so riders.
“Their tracks are headed both ways, sir,” Zerdial observed. His breath steamed in the the cold and clear midday air.
Alucius glanced at Zerdial—the thin squad leader for first squad. At times, Alucius hadn’t been certain that the young squad leader would mature fast enough to keep holding the position, but with Alucius’s help, Zerdial had grown into the job—as had Anslym, the second squad leader. His other three squad leaders—Faisyn, Egyl, and Sawyn—were seasoned veterans.
“They’re already back across the river,” Alucius said. “They crossed, went west as far as Tuuler. They turned back there and came this way to somewhere ahead. Then they retraced their path along the road and crossed back into Lanachrona.” He had a good idea of why the riders had gone farther east, but he wanted to see if he happened to be right. He did not Talent-sense anyone close by, besides his own men, and he would have been most surprised if they had found the riders.
“The scouts did report that there were tracks both ways on the ice, sir.” Zerdial frowned. “They didn’t raid Tuuler.”
“There’s little enough to raid, and the houses are stout stone,” Alucius pointed out. “Most folk here have militia rifles.”
“But…why…”
“They’re not here. Let’s just see if they went so far as the second cataract.” Alucius gestured to the road ahead. “It’s not that far.”
“Yes, sir.”
The first two weeks after Twenty-first Company’s return to duty had gone by slowly, very slowly, each ten-day week feeling twice as long. The third week had begun the same way, and while Alucius had not accompanied every squad he had sent out on patrol, he had accompanied about half the patrols, and on one other occasion, the patrols had found the tracks of riders who had crossed the frozen section of the River Vedra from Lanachrona, then returned.
As first squad continued to ride eastward, Alucius studied the road and the scattered trees between the road and the fields to the north. To his left, on the south, was the river, less than fifty yards wide. The ice, which farther downstream had been thick enough to support a wagon team, was clearly thinner, and less than a half vingt ahead, Alucius could see breaks and cracks in the ice, and even one small spot of open black water.
On the north side of the road, beyond the trees, the snow-covered fields were untracked, unmarked by man or mount. Only the road and, at times, the shoulder held hoofprints. Half a glass passed, and Alucius could hear a low rumbling in the distance, coming from upriver, somewhere beyond where the river curved northward for a time before turning back eastward. The center of the river was largely clear of ice, although the edges and banks were ice-encrusted, but the black water was so smooth it almost looked like a dark mirror.
The tracks of the riders continued eastward, and so did Alucius and first squad, along the banks of the river. Only traces of ice remained near the banks, and a steamy fog rose from the black water.
“Sir?” ventured Zerdial. “Why would they keep going eastward, then turn back? Past here, there’s no ice and no way to cross.”
“Think about it, Zerdial,” Alucius said.
As the column rode around the gentle curve, where the road fo
llowed the river, the low rumbling turned into a far louder roaring that filled the air, with enough force that the branch tips of the scattered junipers along the river road were already bare of the snow that had fallen the day before.
“Sir!” Zerdial gestured to the pair of scouts ahead, who had ridden off the road and almost down to the edge of the river.
When the squad reached the scouts, Alucius nodded to Zerdial.
“Squad halt!” ordered the squad leader.
Alucius glanced upriver, even as he urged Wildebeast to the right and down to the riverbank, where the scouts waited.
Less than a vingt upstream was a rocky escarpment, over which jet-black water steamed as it dropped a good hundred yards into the pool below. For more than a hundred vingts above the falls and for a good four vingts below the cataract, the river was ice-free, running rapidly over the rocky shallows, with foglike vapor rising from the water. Roughly three vingts westward, the riverbed deepened, and the ice cover began. By another four vingts farther south, the ice was solid enough to hold a wagon team, and it stayed that solid all the way westward until slightly north of Tempre.
Alucius reined up short of the scouts.
“Looks like they watered their mounts here, sir!” Elbard, the older and stockier scout, shouted to make his voice heard over the roar of the cataract. “Probably early this morning, maybe before dawn.”
There were also boot tracks in the already ice-crusted snow at the edge of the river, more than just a few.
“It looks like they filled their own water bottles, too,” Alucius suggested.
“Yes, sir.”
“No tracks east of here?”
“No, sir. They watered and turned back west.”
“Thank you.” Alucius nodded to the two. “We’ll be heading back to Emal now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alucius rode back up the slope to the road, where he reined in Wildebeast beside Zerdial. “We’ll head back now.”
“Yes, sir.” Zerdial cleared his throat. “First squad! To the rear, ride! Scouts to the van position!”
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