Alucius turned and headed back toward the conference room, and Feran joined him.
Captain Clifyr was already in the conference space, which held a long sandstone table carved from the cliff itself, if reinforced with wooden braces in places, and covered with layers of some sort of varnish or finish. A good dozen stools, none of them of recent construction, were set around the table. The single window, with actual shutters, had been closed, although Alucius could feel the warm air seeping through the shutter slats.
Alucius and Feran took stools and waited. Shortly, both Heald and Koryt appeared, and then Clifyr slipped out, returning in moments with Majer Draspyr.
The four former militia officers stood. Draspyr motioned for them to take their stools once more, then unrolled a map and weighted it down with small stones produced by Clifyr, before looking over the officers once more and beginning. “According to the Deforyan commander who just left, the nomads are encamped some ten vingts to the south, along a small stream—the only stream—in this part of the Barrier Range. He has not seen any sign of the pteridons, but, according to the information I received before we left Borlan, in the attacks on the Praetorian forces the pteridons did not appear until sometime shortly before the battle.
“We will begin patrols tomorrow. Patrols will consist of two squads, each squad from a different company. Until we have more information, I am requesting that each of you accompany the squad you choose for patrols. Tomorrow, the patrol companies will be the Twenty-third Company of the Southern Guard and the Twenty-first Company of the Northern Guard. On Tridi, it will be Third and Fifth Companies, and on Quattri Twenty-third Company and Eleventh Company. Once you are clear of the cliff here, you are to split into subsquads, and search the areas on the map here, as indicated…” Draspyr pointed. “The first section…”
Alucius noted that Twenty-first Company was assigned the section that took in where the nomads were supposed to be camped.
“You are to gather information about possible routes to and from the nomad encampment, sources of forage for mounts, places suitable for battle, and places unsuitable. Any information about the nomads, their mounts, and their weapons is particularly necessary…” Draspyr continued for a good fifth of a glass before stopping and asking, “Now. Do any of you have any questions?”
Alucius cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“Yes, Overcaptain?”
“Did any of the Deforyan officers mention why they were sending back five companies when a nomad attack might be imminent?”
“No, they did not, Overcaptain.”
Alucius could sense the majer’s anger at the question, or at the Deforyans, and he merely replied, “Thank you, sir.”
“Sir?” asked Heald. “Do we have any information on the numbers of nomads?”
“I regret that we do not, since the Deforyans did not send any scouts down into the grasslands. Or not very far.”
That didn’t astonish Alucius, although it did surprise both Koryt and Clifyr.
“Sir?” asked Feran. “Are the Deforyans here just to hold this base? Or am I missing something?”
“I think, Captain Feran, that you have grasped the situation. We cannot, however, say much about their orders, since they are under the command of the Landarch, and they have kindly allowed us to share their quarters and provided supplies. We are almost here on sufferance, it would appear.” Draspyr straightened. “I will see you all in the officers’ mess shortly.”
“They have one?” murmured Feran under his breath.
Alucius waited until the majer had left. “They’d have to have one. Otherwise, the officers would have to eat with mere rankers.”
“They couldn’t do that,” Heald said quietly. “They don’t even like eating with career types.”
Clifyr was straining to hear without seeming to do so.
Alucius turned toward the Southern Guard captain. “We were considering what sort of mess they might have here.”
“It’s actually quite suitable,” Clifyr said. “Enough chairs and tables for close to forty, and a well-equipped kitchen.”
Feran and Heald smiled and nodded.
“Thank you,” Alucius replied, waiting for Clifyr to leave.
“This really smells like sander shit,” Feran finally said. “We’re supposed to scout, and fight, and…the Deforyans are just going to sit up here and see if the nomads attack?”
“They won’t attack here,” Heald said. “They’ll just ride around Black Ridge and head for Dereka.”
“We’ll have to see,” Alucius replied. “Starting tomorrow.”
The others nodded, not happily, but then, Alucius wasn’t exactly pleased, either.
57
South of the Barrier Range, Illegea
In the cool of evening, nearly a score of Myrmidon warleaders had gathered in the largest tent in the encampment, and half the panels had been lifted to provide air. They sat cross-legged on the thin but elegantly woven carpets circled around the stool on which Aellyan Edyss was seated. Outside in the gathering twilight, some of the younger Myrmidons had also gathered, far enough back from the light cast by lamps set on posts pounded into the ground so that their faces could not be seen.
“We are the riders of the wind,” Edyss said, his voice stating the obvious. “We ride the wind either upon our mounts or upon the pteridons, and nothing stands before the wind.” After a pause, he continued. “The westerners believe that all we live for is plunder. Plunder is good.” He grinned. “It is very good. But it is not enough. For generations, the easterners and the westerners have ridden the great road through our lands, doing as they please, scorning us. Even now, they scorn us. Up on the black ledge, there are ten companies of troopers. There have always been five. Now, the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona has deigned to send a mere five companies. Do they think so little of us that they believe five more companies—a few hundred weak westerners with rifles—can stop us from reclaiming our destiny?”
A low and rumbled “No!” rose from the warleaders.
“For generations, the weaklings of Deforya have trusted in the mountains to keep them safe. They believed that we could never act together. They have high grasslands, and they have few horses. They have water through all the year, and yet they huddle in a handful of towns and cities. They control the northern high road, and yet they reap little gain from it. Are they guardians of the land? Do they celebrate the sky and life? Do they deserve the land they hold?”
“No!” rumbled forth once more.
“The westerners…in their arrogance, they will come down from the mountains and they will scout. For a time…let them, but watch what they do and how they do it. We will only attack if they near our camp. They will see how mighty our force is, and they will hesitate. While they hesitate, and before they can summon more of their troopers, then we will attack them…and the despicable Deforyans.” Edyss stood, his eyes blazing, his gaze catching the eyes of every warleader in turn.
In the silence that followed, he seated himself once more on the stool.
“How do we know that the Deforyans or their allies in black do not have a weapon like the Lustreans did?” asked one of the older horse commanders, his weathered face emotionless.
“We do not know,” Aellyan Edyss replied. “But we will find out before we bring all the pteridons to battle. We of the grasslands can be as cunning as the great grass serpents, when the need is there. If they do have such a weapon, we will creep up the mountain in the darkness and overpower them while they sleep.” He laughed. “We may do that anyway.”
“What of the spirits in the mountains?”
“What of them?” asked the blond-haired commander. “The grasslands have their spirits, and they are far more numerous than those of the mountains. Have you once feared to ride your horse because of grassland spirits?” His laugh was open, yet mocking.
The man who had asked the question looked down, and more laughter rang through the tent.
“We have already destroyed the greatest army r
aised in generations,” Edyss went on. “If we strike when our enemies are weak, and choose the time and place of our battles, you will see the banner of the new Myrmidons fly above Dereka, and within your lives above far Alustre and Tempre, and even Hieron and Southgate. Corus can be ours. It will be ours…”
In the darkness beyond the tent, smiles appeared on the shadowed faces of the younger Myrmidons.
58
Early on Duadi, right after muster, Alucius and the third squad of Twenty-first Company led the patrols down from Black Ridge on a trail cut from the black lava sometime in the distant past, a trail that was even more narrow than the one across the Barrier Range. Switchback followed switchback, and while the exposed stretches were clear, the protected niches just beyond each switchback were piled high with fine dark sand that spilled onto the trail in places.
Alucius was near the lead, with just two scouts before him. Even after they had traveled less than a vingt, he could see that there were no hoofprints or footprints on the trail, just rodent tracks and occasional bird tracings, and one slithering trace that indicated a largish snake. But he could sense nothing with his Talent—except for his troopers and their mounts.
At the bottom of the cliff trail, as Alucius and third squad waited for Captain Clifyr and his first squad, Alucius studied the nearly sheer cliff. So far as he could tell, there was no other way to Black Ridge from the grasslands—not directly. There were other defiles and gorges heading northward, and it was certainly possible that the nomads could use them to bypass the sheer cliff and circle back along the supply trail, but the four-man guard detail could certainly hold off any attack up the trail long enough for reinforcements to cross the open two hundred yards from the barracks to overwhelm any attackers—except perhaps at night, when they would not be able to see the attackers against the shadows and dark stone until they were within a few hundred yards.
He decided to make that point to the majer on his return—after he had experienced how hard the ride was back up the narrow and ancient trail.
The grass that covered everything was still the full green of early summer, spraying out of thick root clumps that protruded a finger’s width from the ground. Each clump was separated from the next by perhaps two handspans. In most places, the grass had reached a level waist high on a grown man, tall enough to conceal a scout hidden in it, but not tall enough to hide a standing man or mount. Where the grass was thinner, Alucius could see the tannish remnants of the previous year’s growth, although there was little enough of that. Were there beetles or insects that consumed the dead growth the way the shellbeetles went after dead quarasote?
Captain Clifyr rode to meet Alucius well before the last of the squad from Twenty-third Company cleared the narrow trail. He inclined his head as he reined up short of Alucius. “Overcaptain.”
“Captain. How did you find the descent?”
“It’s steep. The footing is good, except for where there’s sand.” Clifyr paused. “How would you like to handle the return rendezvous?”
“I don’t think we should plan on that. We’ll be heading farther west,” Alucius said. “We should make sure we each have our full squad before coming back, but one of us could be waiting here for some time, and that would just make whoever it is a target.”
“The majer wants everyone back—”
Alucius looked at Clifyr, and said quietly, “You can do as you think best. We will probably take longer. You can wait here at the bottom or head back up. If you’re not here, and there aren’t tracks heading back up, we will make a quick search.”
Clifyr frowned, then nodded. “As you wish, Overcaptain.”
“It’s not something we can plan that well. You’ll do fine,” Alucius said, using a touch of Talent to project reassurance and confidence. “We’ll see you late this afternoon.” Then he turned Wildebeast back toward third squad.
As Clifyr marshaled his squad, Alucius reined up beside the third squad leader. “Faisyn…we’ll ride together until we get to a point where we’re opposite that next canyon to the west. Then, you’ll head south from there. You take the left file, with Waris as your scout, and I’ll take the right file and Deuryn. You’re clear on the area to travel? And how far south you’ll go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t stop for very long when you take breaks, and keep in mind that we’ll be tracked, at least from a distance, by the nomads. They could attack at any time. I don’t think they will, but they could.” Alucius laughed softly. “I’ve been wrong before, and I wouldn’t want unnecessary casualties because you took my word. With the Lanachronans and the Matrites, we had some idea how they fought. Here, we don’t have any idea.”
“But you think they’ll feel us out?”
“I’m fairly sure of that. What I don’t know is whether feeling us out is attacking immediately to see how we defend ourselves or watching and then attacking.”
Faisyn nodded.
“Patrol forward!” Alucius ordered.
Two glasses passed before they reached the higher ridge overlooking the narrow stream that emerged from the Barrier Range through a narrow defile a vingt to the north. The ride had been slower than Alucius had thought, because the grass was thicker, and there were no signs of any trails. Once they had reined up on the crest of the ridge, Alucius studied the terrain once more.
Below them, in the gentle swale, the stream meandered in a southwest direction. From what observations Alucius and the majer had made and from the fires they had seen the night before, the nomads had camped on the southern side of the stream close to seven vingts farther to the southwest.
Alucius gestured to the squad leader, riding to his right. “Faisyn.”
“Sir?”
“Remember. You go south and then east from here. You’re not to go any farther west than you already are. And when you get back to the base of the trail, you’re to wait there, but in such a way that you can ride up it immediately if you’re threatened. You’d be exposed until you get to the first switchback, but you could hold that against a company.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Head your subsquad out. We’ll see you later.”
Alucius watched for a time until he was certain that no one was following, not that his Talent could sense, before he turned Wildebeast and started down the slope to the stream. The stream was only three yards wide, with a mud-and-clay bottom, but clear and nearly a yard deep.
After refilling water bottles and watering their mounts, they headed up the slope on the far side. About halfway up, Alucius sensed riders to the south, barely at the range of his Talent.
“Dueryn!”
“Yes, sir?” The scout rode up alongside Alucius.
“We’re nearing the edge of the territory the nomads patrol. I’d like you to trail us a bit and keep a close eye out to the south.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Dueryn turned his mount, Alucius beckoned to Velmyr, an older trooper.
“Sir?”
“I’d like you to ride ahead, not far, about fifty yards, and give a yell if you see anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alucius doubted that even half a glass had passed before Deuryn returned and eased his mount up beside Alucius. “We’re being followed, sir. There’s a bunch of nomads about a vingt to the south on the next rise, the one on the other side of the stream. Mostly, they’re staying below the crest on the far side.”
“How many?” asked Alucius.
“I’d say only five or six.”
That number matched the feel that Alucius had gotten from his Talent. “Then we don’t have to worry about an immediate attack. They’d have to ride down, and then up against us anyway. But keep watching and let me know if anything changes.”
As Dueryn turned his mount, Alucius tried to stretch his Talent sense to the south. He gained a feeling of many men somewhere beyond the stream, but the vagueness of the feeling meant that they were at least three or four vingts distant. But there was something, someo
ne, directly ahead.
“Velmyr!”
“Sir?”
Alucius did not speak, but gestured for the trooper to return, then motioned for him to ride beside him.
“What have you seen?” he asked, as the patrol followed the ridgeline toward the southwest. They were now a good two to three vingts south of the cliffs that marked the southern edge of the Barrier Range.
“Grass, sir, and more grass. Might be some riders ahead—out on the horizon on the other side of the stream. Saw a few dark spots…but only a few times.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” Alucius could sense that a single nomad or scout lay in the green waist-high grass, a hundred yards ahead.
“Patrol halt!” He reined up with the order to the half squad patrol. Did he want to reveal that they knew?
“Quiet,” Alucius said, studying the grass ahead. “There’s someone or something in the grass ahead. From the way the grass was moving against the wind, it’s either a grass-cat or a nomad scout.”
For a time, the patrol remained motionless, the only sounds those of the mounts breathing and the occasional creak of leather as a trooper shifted his weight in the saddle. Alucius thought. He really didn’t like shooting someone, and he didn’t want to avoid the area. If they rode closer, someone would get shot, probably one of his men.
“You can either stand up or get shot!” Alucius finally called out.
There was no response. Alucius didn’t sense fear, but something more like contempt. He took a long slow breath as he pulled out the heavy militia rifle, cocked it and aimed. He fired slightly wide of the hidden figure.
There was no response. “The next shot will be for you!” Alucius recocked the rifle.
The sense of arrogance remained, and the nomad stayed hidden.
With a sense of regret, Alucius fired again. Crack!
Even with the sense of pain that washed back over Alucius, he could feel no fear, and no response, but a gathering of resolve. So when the nomad leapt to his feet with his own rifle, Alucius was ready with his third shot. Before the nomad could squeeze the trigger on his weapon, he pitched forward into the grass, the red-dark void of death washing over Alucius.
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