Alucius had to take a moment to refocus his attention on the words addressed to him before he could reply. “I was captain in the Iron Valleys Militia when the Council agreed to become a part of Lanachrona. Shortly after that I was promoted to overcaptain.” Sensing a certain frustration from the other even before he had finished speaking, he added, “I had served some time at that point.”
“I fear…I was not clear. In most cases, how does one…become an officer? By birth, or schooling…by appointment from the Lord-Protector…?”
Alucius nodded. “I cannot speak for the officers of the Southern Guard. What is now the Northern Guard, those of us in the black uniforms, gets its officers in several ways. Personally, I was raised as a herder—”
“The landholding kind?”
“Yes,” Alucius admitted. “We have a large stead north of Iron Stem in the Iron Valleys.”
“You are a younger son, perhaps?”
“No. I’m the oldest. My family does not believe that a herder can hold the respect he must have unless he has served in the…Northern Guard.” He’d almost said militia, because the habits of a life did not change easily, especially when he was trying to slant his answers while still being truthful.
“And have you seen much…combat?” That came from the older overcaptain to his left, Gheranak, according to the calligraphed name placard before him. He sat beside Heald and nearer the head of the table. His words were matter-of-fact, almost as if he already knew.
Alucius replied. “It is hard to compare, but I have been told that I am among those with the most combat experience in the Northern Guard.”
The face of the younger officer across the table expressed polite disbelief.
Heald started to open his mouth, but stopped as Overcaptain Gheranak, who had asked the combat question, gestured. “Overcaptain Shorak.” The words from the older overcaptain were measured, level. “I read the report on Overcaptain Alucius this morning. It is rather interesting. He was seriously wounded in a battle against the Matrites and left for dead. Although he was captured, within little more than two years he not only recovered from a head wound considered fatal, but escaped. He brought back an entire company of troopers, defeating four Matrite companies in the process. He has twice wiped out raider bands outnumbering his forces by two to one. It is also interesting to note that he has always led his men from the front rank.” The older overcaptain inclined his head to Alucius. “I beg your pardon, Overcaptain Alucius, but it is often difficult to state one’s own accomplishments without being considered boastful.”
Alucius nodded in return. “Thank you. I did not know that my life story had been sent ahead of me.” He was as much surprised that the older overcaptain had been telling the truth as he knew it as that the officer knew Alucius’s background.
“Ah…it was not, but the Landarch has his own sources.”
Heald concealed a frown, then glanced at Alucius, who smiled back, ruefully, getting the slightest shrug in return.
The younger overcaptain looked near ashen, far more than Alucius would have expected. “I beg your pardon, Overcaptain.”
“You need not be overly concerned…if you merely sought information,” Alucius said with a smile.
The young overcaptain paled further, than took refuge behind a goblet of the amber wind.
“Shorak here…” said the officer to the right of Alucius, “he still has a bit to learn about the way other lands handle their forces. He’ll learn.”
“I fear I know nothing of the structure of your Lancers,” Alucius admitted. “So little that I couldn’t ask an intelligent question. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”
“I’m Feorak,” the officer said, grinning at Shorak. “You see, Shorak. That’s the way you do it.” Then he looked at Alucius. “You’ve killed a lot of men in battle, haven’t you?”
“Enough,” Alucius admitted.
“There’s an air about experience. Hard to miss when you look,” Feorak said, as much for the benefit of Shorak as Alucius. “You asked about the Lancers. We have twenty-five companies, and five are always on border duty. Five more are going with you on Quinti. Regret I won’t be one of them. Now…structure. Officers all come from families that can provide an education for their sons. Usually younger sons of landowners, like Shorak and me, but could be merchants or clerks. We get a year of intensive training at the Lancer Academy. The rankers get three months. Companies look to be organized like yours, but twenty-four in a squad, and five squads in a company. Overcaptain in charge of each company, and a captain under him, with a senior squad leader and an assistant senior squad leader, and then a squad leader for each squad, with a senior ranker for each subsquad of twelve.”
Alucius nodded. The organization alone told him much. “Are the nomads your biggest problem, or is that something new?”
“We haven’t had much problem with the nomads for almost a generation. They weren’t even united until this Aellyan Edyss came along. There are all sorts of raiders and clans hidden in the Spine of Corus, to the east of Aelta, and that’s where most of the Lancer companies have been. There are still ten out there now.”
“So…after we leave, there will only be five companies here in Dereka?”
Feorak nodded. “Most Deforyans aren’t that worried about the nomads. They feel that we’re protected by the spirits of the mountains. No one has ever invaded Deforya, not even before the Cataclysm.”
“Spirits of the mountains?”
“No one has ever seen one, but we’ve found raiders, even nomads, dead on the slopes and in the passes. Without even a mark on them.” Feorak shrugged. “No one can explain it, but…”
Alucius nodded. “If it works…” He took a bite of the meat he had served himself from the platter. It was tender, covered with a plumapple glaze, and only lightly seasoned, but not a kind of meat he had eaten before.
“It’s plains antelope,” Shorak offered tentatively. “Do you like it?”
“It’s very good,” Alucius replied.
“They come from the southeast, below the high road before it enters the Northern Pass. It’s hard to come by, but it’s always been the favored meat at banquets, for generations back.”
“Even before the land was Deforya? Or has it always been called Deforya?” asked Alucius, keeping his voice indifferent.
“So long as the histories run, it has been Deforya, land of prosperity and plenty, protected by the very mountains themselves…”
“Are the mountains why you’re not worried about Aellyan Edyss?” asked Alucius. “He did rout the Praetorians and conquered Ongelya.”
“He has not crossed the Barrier Range,” Shorak offered. “No one ever has. Not in force.”
“Not yet,” Feorak added with a laugh.
“We passed vingt after vingt of orchards,” Alucius offered, taking a sip of the amber wine, but only a sip.
“Our orchards are known all across Corus…”
Alucius listened, only occasionally asking a question.
Some two glasses later, Feran, Alucius, and Heald found themselves in one of the carriages headed back to their quarters. None of the three spoke on their carriage ride, nor until they were crossing the courtyard toward the officers’ quarters, under the twin moons of Selena and Asterta, neither new nor full.
“How do you feel about Dereka? What does the place feel like to you?” Alucius asked, almost idly, looking first at Heald, then at Feran.
“Old,” said Feran. “It’s like they’re living in a time generations back.” He laughed softly. “They seem happy with it.”
“Happy? You think so?” Happy or resigned?
“Happy as any folk,” Heald said. “I feel like people are watching us all the time. They knew all about all of us.” He added in a low voice. “Gheranak even knew about the crystal spear-thrower. After he told everyone what you’d done, he asked me about it, about what it could do and whether anyone else could build one.”
“The captains around me were asking w
hy the raiders had used Deforyan uniforms,” Feran added. “The ones who attacked Tuuler, you know?”
“They didn’t find all that out from the Lord-Protector, or the majer,” Alucius pointed out.
“That’s not good,” Feran suggested.
“It may not be so bad,” Alucius replied. “Think about how we got here.”
Heald nodded, understanding both what Alucius had said and not said. Dereka was clearly a place where the walls had both eyes and ears, if not more.
50
Tempre, Lanachrona
The Lord-Protector walked into the conference chamber and seated himself at the vacant seat. He looked over the two marshals and the Recorder of Deeds. “Recorder…if you would report?”
“The herder overcaptain is in Dereka. What do you expect from this gambit?” asked the silver-clad Recorder of Deeds, his voice flat. His eyes were dark circles in a face that had become ever more white since winter.
Following his words, silence extended around the conference table, then deepened. No one spoke.
After a time, the Lord-Protector smiled, if faintly. “My dear Recorder, that is the first time ever that you have spoken sharply to me. I trust there is a reason for such.”
“There is, Lord-Protector. I fear greatly that you may be unleashing more than you realize. You wish stability for Lanachrona, but the Table is now almost unable to show the herder captain. This is less than encouraging when you have no—
“I have been married less than a year, and I do have brothers.”
“I beg your pardon, Lord-Protector. That was not what I meant. I was referring to the Table. You know what it means when an image is not shown.”
“It means, my dear Recorder, that I was right. Aellyan Edyss has his pteridons. We have sent our Talent-weapon as well. They will fight in Deforya or in the Barrier Range. Either way, we win. If the overcaptain prevails, we commend him, and send him back to being a herder, and that is what he wants. And he will be grateful for such. If he shows signs of wishing battle glory, we may even promote him to majer and send more forces to him so that he can attack and conquer the nomads. That will also keep the good Colonel Weslyn looking over his shoulder. If the overcaptain does not prevail, I am certain he will create far greater damage to the nomads than Aellyan Edyss can imagine. That will give Edyss great pause about attacking us in the near future, and it will also bind the Landarch, if he holds Deforya, closer to us.”
“You do not think this captain will turn his forces against you?” asked Marshal Alyniat.
“Not so long as he is a herder with a stead, and with a mother, a grandsire, and a wife. The stead is his life. It is for all herders.” The Lord-Protector smiled, coldly. “And if anything should happen to his stead or any of them, I would do far worse to whoever caused it to occur than you can possibly imagine. I do not like good tools being damaged through pettiness.”
The two marshals nodded acquiescence. The Recorder shivered imperceptibly.
“What of the nomads?” asked the Lord-Protector.
“They are scouting the passes to the north, between Illegea and Deforya. They are also gathering supplies,” the Recorder replied. “As you know, the Table does not reveal the pteridons, but there has been no sign of further destruction.”
“Good.” The Lord-Protector turned to the older marshal. “How long will it take to build up the forces necessary to move from Eastice to Northport?”
“The Recorder’s Table shows that there are but two Matrite horse companies north of Harmony. We will have what we need to take Northport in less than two weeks. We should have Harmony by the end of harvest. After that, the fighting will be most intense and difficult. It is possible we might reach Arwyn before winter.”
“Then we will consolidate our position before winter, wherever that may be. We will not make the mistakes the Matrial did.” The Lord-Protector turned to Alyniat, then the Recorder. “You will be sure to report on any movements of Matrite troopers?”
“Yes, Lord-Protector.”
“Is…Do you think that moving troopers west…?” Wyerl did not finish the sentence.
“No. It is not absolutely certain. But Aellyan Edyss is a nomad. He thinks of plunder and golds. That is why he wants Deforya and control of the Northern Pass. If we strike in Madrien now, we can gain control of all major ports on the coast except Hafin, and, in time, we can defeat the Matrites. We already control most of the high roads, and golds are now flowing from our tariffs at Southgate.”
The two marshals nodded once more.
51
Alucius could feel the coolness of smooth tile under his feet. He looked down and discovered he wore but simple under-drawers, rather than his nightsilk undergarments. As he raised his eyes, a woman with shimmering black hair, violet eyes, and flawless white skin, clad in less even than Alucius wore, stepped through the archway opposite him, swaying toward the herder, smiling, beckoning, suggesting that all manner of delights were within his reach. Yet Alucius hesitated, stepping back, feeling a deep chill from somewhere.
The woman beckoned once more, and Alucius edged farther backward.
A bolt of purple flame appeared at her fingertips, then flared from her fingers. He threw up a sabre that had appeared in his hand. Flame sprayed past him, the heat so intense it was like an iron mill. He could smell hair burning, his hair—
Alucius jerked upright from the wide bed in the ancient stone-walled officers’ quarters in the barracks of the Lancers of Dereka, barracks whose walls, at least, dated back to before the Cataclysm. In the darkness that was more like twilight to him, he glanced around, but he could neither see nor sense anyone within the room, perfectly silent except for his own ragged breathing. He swallowed, then moistened dry lips.
Why the Matrial—or the image he had of her? He had not had that dream since right after he had killed the Matrial. Why now? He hadn’t even thought of the former ruler of Madrien, except perhaps in passing, in weeks. Was it being surrounded by ancient structures? Or the sense of sorrow that permeated Deforya?
After swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Alucius stood. He walked to the window and opened the shutters slightly. Below, the courtyard was empty. Then he turned. He still needed sleep, and he’d regret not sleeping all too much on the ride that lay before Twenty-first Company.
As he slipped back under the thin blanket that was all he needed on the cool summer night, he tried not to think about the reasons behind the dream. He also worried about Wendra, although he couldn’t say why the dream had called up those concerns, and he wished he had a way to write her, or, better yet, that he could return to the stead. But that return, he knew full well, was months away—and only if he and his company survived.
52
On Quinti, Alucius was at the head of Twenty-first Company, riding southward out of the city of Dereka toward the misty peaks of the Barrier Range, barely visible in the distance beyond the orchards and grasslands. The road south was not of eternastone, but it was paved—at least for the first five vingts out of the city and for as far as Alucius could see. Paved or not, it was dusty. Since Twenty-first Company was fourth in riding order among those from Lanachrona and the Iron Valleys, and since the Deforyan forces were up front, there was enough dust that Alucius found himself wiping the fine grit off his face and forehead almost every vingt.
Longyl rode beside Alucius. “No aqueducts or orchards along this road, but the ground looks the same. Wager they could grow plumapples here, too.”
“They probably could, if they had water and people to tend them.”
“There were a lot of people in Dereka,” Longyl mused. “They weren’t garbed all that well, either.”
“Some of the buildings were empty, the old ones,” Alucius pointed out.
“I didn’t see any new ones.” Longyl laughed.
Neither had Alucius. He also realized something else. With all the briefings and meetings on Quattri, and the need to clean and repair gear, they’d effectively been kept busy en
ough not to really explore Dereka.
For almost a vingt of travel, he considered what he and Longyl had just talked about, the few words he’d overheard from the streets about water, the painful lack of experience of Overcaptain Shorak.
Then he turned to Longyl. “You’re in charge here for a bit. I need to talk to Captain Feran for a few moments.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alucius eased Wildebeast out along the shoulder and headed back toward Fifth Company, noting the narrow-bodied wagons and packhorses stretched out for half a vingt behind Feran’s last troopers. Transferring the ammunition and equipment from the wider Lanachronan wagons to those of the Deforyans had also been a complication, but the majer had assured them it was necessary because the road to the Deforyan outpost in the Barrier Range was too narrow for the wider wagons.
Feran lifted his arm in greeting as Alucius neared and swung his mount alongside the older captain. “Coming back so you can swallow even more dust?”
“You know how I love dust,” Alucius said with a smile. “I was thinking. About the supper with the Landarch.”
“Best food we’re likely to have until we get back home.”
“Probably.” Alucius paused. “You were sitting with the captains. What were they like?”
“We had a better time than you did. Most of them were long-termers like me.”
“Most…or all of them?” Alucius asked.
“All probably…or so close as not to make a difference. Why?”
“Some of the overcaptains were younger than I am…years younger. They came from the families of large landowners.”
Feran nodded. “The captains really command the companies, you think?”
“In most cases. I’d say they run the companies, the way the senior squad leaders run the Matrite companies.”
“If it works…?”
“I’d wager it works a great deal more effectively than if the overcaptains actually gave commands. Or at least the junior overcaptains.”
Darknesses Page 20
