“We need to get these blocks out of here.”
“Yes, sir!”
It only took the four men a quarter of a glass to uncover the rest of the archway filled with rough sandstone blocks and to remove the unmortared blocks—an indication to Alucius that the archway led to the unused road—but only an indication. Even before all the blocks were removed, he could see and sense a tunnel, and cool air began to flood out.
There was indeed a tunnel—one with ancient light-torches in brackets on the wall, the first light-torches Alucius had seen anywhere in Deforya.
“I think we just might have another way back to Dereka.” Alucius stepped into the tunnel, wide and high enough for a mounted rider—if with little room to spare—and took down the first light-torch.
The greenish beam revealed that the tunnel continued northwest, and Alucius kept walking. The west tunnel was over two hundred yards long, and there was another blocked archway at the north end, but it was sealed only with square stones not mortared on the outside, because Alucius could see light around some of the stones.
He turned to Draspyr. “I’d like to send a messenger to Twenty-first Company and have them withdraw to Black Ridge.”
“We don’t know if this road will take us out, Overcaptain,” Draspyr pointed out. “Or that we won’t meet nomads at the other end.”
“We don’t,” Alucius agreed. “But you just told me that we were almost out of ammunition. If we try the road, we’re no worse off than if we stay here, and there’s a chance that we’ll be far better off.”
Draspyr nodded. “Send your messenger.”
Alucius looked to Dueryn. “Are you up to it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Longyl is going to have to give the impression that his forces are still there. Try to leave a couple of men in position, occasionally firing, until the others are well clear. Then, they’ll have to follow and catch up.” Alucius hoped that would work, since the nomads hadn’t tried early-night attacks before, but attacked later in full darkness.
“I’ll send a half squad from Third Company with him,” Heald added.
As Alucius watched the four troopers open the second archway, he could only hope that the road was usable—at least to a point beyond where the nomads were.
Draspyr had already left to organize the withdrawal when Alucius looked out in the late-afternoon light at the narrow way, sandy in places, and clearly not used in years, if not generations. The road felt open and solid, but Alucius could only hope that he was not deceiving himself—and the others.
63
The sun had already dropped below the western peaks of the Barrier Range by the time all the companies had been gathered. One of Heald’s scouts had also traveled more than a vingt along the western road and reported back to Alucius that the trail was sound that far, if sandy in places, and looked to be in good shape for at least half a vingt farther.
Majer Draspyr and the remnants of Twenty-third Company led the long column, which included only one wagon, with the four Deforyan cooks who had been abandoned, and all the remaining horses bearing ammunition and supplies. Twenty-first Company, set to be the last company, was providing guard duty as the others rode through the stable tunnel and out onto the western road. So far there had been no sign of the nomads moving toward Black Ridge on the other road.
As soon as the last horses had passed through the stable and were waiting in the tunnel, as was Wildebeast, three troopers from Twenty-first Company began replacing the stones in the archway, from the tunnel side. As they worked, Carlis, a slender trooper, swept the stone surface from the front of the stable back toward the tunnel archway.
When he reached the archway, then halfway filled with stones, the others helped him up, and supported him while he swept the area close to the wall, then eased him—and the broom—through the opening, before finishing replacing the stones.
Alucius hoped that, by leaving no tracks in the stable, the nomads would simply look at the stoned-up archway and not investigate farther—or not too soon. The time taken wasn’t wasted, because, at the least, the nomads would have to spend some time undoing the stones. The farther that the understrength Northern Guard companies—and the one half-strength Southern Guard company—could travel before being discovered, the better. There was always the possibility of the pteridons finding them, although that was somewhat less because there were fewer pteridons, and because the initial travel was under the cover of darkness. He could hope that the nomads would be more careful with their remaining pteridons—and that they didn’t come up with more of the creatures.
Alucius and the remaining troopers repeated the process of sweeping and stoning up the second archway, before moving to catch up to the others on the beginning of the long trip back to Dereka. Alucius hoped that the journey would not be too long, and that it would be very uneventful.
64
South of Black Ridge, Illegea
In the light of midmorning, Aellyan Edyss surveyed the handful of warleaders who stood before him at the base of the narrow trail that led upward to Black Ridge.
“There is no one there? No one at all?”
“You asked for an attack at dawn. We attacked. No one resisted us. We have searched everywhere there. They are not there, but they are not on the trail road back to Dereka. They have vanished as if they never were.”
Aellyan Edyss laughed, and his laughter boomed out across the grasslands. “Then there is nothing between us and Dereka!”
“They have vanished,” protested one older warleader. “There are no fresh bodies, and there are no horses. None of our warriors have seen them.”
“They are hiding in the rocks, to avoid us, and they will die there, except for a handful that give themselves up and beg for mercy. They will not receive mercy, not after all the years of scorn and all the years when they invaded our lands.” The blond leader, whose face had become so fair that it was nearly white, turned and gestured toward the glasslands to the south. “Their lands will also become ours.”
“They destroyed many of the pteridons…”
Edyss turned slowly, glaring, but could not determine who had uttered the words. “It does not matter. We still have enough and we could take Dereka without a single winged Talent-beast. They have less than twenty companies of horsemen, and they would rather flee than fight. The westerners would fight, but they too have fled. No one else will come to defend the Landarch and his fat landowners.”
This time, no one protested.
“Leave a garrison there.” He pointed toward Black Ridge. “But not a large one. Ride for Dereka. We will join you on the far side of the mountains.”
65
The sky was silver-green and cloudless, as it had been for most of the year, and more red dust sifted upward with each step by every horse in front of Alucius and Wildebeast, although there were only those of the vanguard, because Twenty-first Company was now in the lead. Under the warm late-summer sun, Alucius yawned and tried to stretch in the saddle. After five days of riding, with almost no sleep on the first night, he was sore, and stiff, and tired, although they had found two cavelike waystations, with springs. In the second, they had had to dig away drifted sand to make an entrance and get to the water, but the water had been clear and pure…and most welcome.
Following the rediscovered western trail road, the weary troopers and officers had taken four days before they had finally rejoined the main road—through a short tunnel, also filled with an unmortared stone wall at each end. Alucius had insisted that the second stone-filled archway be refilled. Then he had the residue and sand shoveled against it, as if over the years the wind had piled it against the stone blocks. While the Deforyan troopers might look askance, the nomads probably wouldn’t, since they weren’t that familiar with the road.
The western road had run its separate way long enough that they had rejoined the main road north of the nomads. That had been clear from the lack of recent tracks in the main road. Where the two trails rejoi
ned was roughly where the mountains ended and the red sandy hills and the thorn trees began, although the valley that held both Dereka and the good road was days ahead. Still, the trail had widened enough so that the column could ride two abreast, and there were no traces of nomad tracks in the dust—not so far.
“How do you think the Deforyans will feel about us coming back?” asked Longyl, riding to the right of Alucius.
“They’ll welcome us for killing large numbers of nomads, and behind closed doors, they’ll complain that we didn’t kill enough, and that the Lord-Protector didn’t send enough companies. Then, they’ll probably want us in the fore of the big battle when the nomads try to take Dereka. Not right in the center, but somewhere close where we can take huge casualties.”
“Captain Feran said you were feeling right cheerful, sir. I can see what he meant.”
“Like everyone, I’m just tired, Longyl.” Alucius felt neither cheerful nor charitable, and he doubted it was just exhaustion. He and Waris and the scouts had managed to save most of the troopers, but the time at Black Ridge and leaving it didn’t feel like a victory, or even like much of an accomplishment. He should have followed his feelings about the symmetrical nature of Black Ridge from the beginning. Yet…would that have changed anything that much? They couldn’t have retreated immediately. Not without being considered cowardly by both the Lord-Protector and the Landarch and facing disciplinary action from Colonel Weslyn and the Lord-Protector. And without facing the pteridons under conditions that had actually favored them, they wouldn’t have been able to kill those pteridons that they had.
By killing something like half the pteridons, they had reduced the impact of the deadly beasts. They had killed hundreds of the nomads with losses amounting to slightly more than one company. They’d effectively shielded Dereka and allowed the Landarch time to call in troopers from the northeast—if he would. And they had certainly reduced the risk the nomads posed to Lanachrona and the Iron Valleys.
All that considered, why did Alucius feel so depressed by the situation?
Because he knew that no one would be pleased with the situation? Because they hadn’t done the impossible and stopped the nomads? Because they hadn’t destroyed all the pteridons? Because there were still more battles ahead with a dubious ally?
Alucius took a deep breath and looked northward. Maybe, once they reached Dereka, rest and food would help his attitude.
He hoped so.
66
Just before midday, with high hazy clouds over Dereka, Alucius crossed the ancient stone courtyard of Lancer Prime Post toward the officers’ café. Two days had passed since he and the western forces had returned to Dereka, and while he had gotten more sleep and far better food, as had the troopers, he was still concerned.
The other three officers were already seated at a circular table in one corner of the café when Alucius stepped inside. Although a handful of Deforyan officers were also eating, none was close to the Northern Guard officers, with empty tables around Heald, Feran, and Koryt.
The Deforyan cook, on the other hand, looked at Alucius’s uniform as he stood by the low railing that separated the grill and stove area from the tables, and said, “We have some fine chicken here, sir. I can even put lace potatoes with it, and there’s a good plumapple wine sauce.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that very much, and any fruit that you have.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll bring it right out. You just sit down.” With a smile, the cook turned back to the grill.
Alucius crossed the polished stone floor and seated himself at the single empty chair with the others. “The cooks are friendly.”
“I think the ones we brought back told their buddies,” Heald observed. “It hasn’t made the Deforyan officers happy.”
“Glad someone appreciates what we did,” Feran said, taking a sip from a large beaker of ale. “No one else does.”
Low and rueful laughter went around the table.
“Have you seen the majer this morning?” asked Koryt.
“Majer Draspyr has a meeting with the Deforyan submarshal…” Alucius paused. “Ahorak, the Assistant Arms-Commander, to discuss the need for the defense of Dereka.”
“What is there to discuss?” asked Feran. “The city needs a defense. The nomads are riding this way. They want the city and everything in it. If they aren’t stopped, they’ll take it.”
The cook appeared with a large platter and a beaker of the pale golden ale.
“Thank you.” Alucius still couldn’t get used to the idea of an officers’ mess that was a café where he didn’t have to pay.
The cook bowed, then slipped away.
“Their spirits of the mountain didn’t do that much,” Heald said, after finishing the last mouthful of potatoes. “Not that I could see.”
“Alucius did more with the road,” Feran suggested.
“Who do you think blocked off that second road? And why?” asked Koryt.
Alucius took a mouthful of chicken, well seasoned and tender, before replying. “I don’t know, but it was done a long time ago. I’d guess the western road was sealed off right after the Cataclysm by one of the first Landarches. He probably wanted to make it harder for the nomads to reach Dereka. That’s only a guess. Also, by sealing it that way, it meant that they had an alternative that no one knew about. The only problem was that someone forgot.”
“Forgot, or just kept secret?” asked Feran.
“Probably kept secret for generations,” suggested Heald, “then forgotten.” He stopped talking and looked toward the door.
Majer Draspyr had stepped into the café and was surveying the tables. Then, upon seeing his four officers, he walked toward them, past the Deforyan officers and the empty quarter circle of tables around the western officers.
The four stood, and Alucius moved to take a chair from the nearest table. “Would you join us, sir?”
Draspyr frowned, but only momentarily, then laughed, once, before replying. “I think I will. This is as a good a place to meet as anywhere.”
Even before the majer had seated himself, a cook appeared at his elbow, setting an ale in a tall beaker before him. “Sir…would you like the chicken and the lace potatoes? It’s the best.”
“Ah…yes, thank you.”
The cook bowed and hurried away.
Alucius noted the frowns from the Deforyan officers, but said nothing.
“Almost embarrassing,” Draspyr muttered. “Couldn’t leave them there, cooks or not.”
“The Deforyans did, sir,” Heald pointed out.
Draspyr raised his eyebrows. “That may be. We’re not Deforyans.”
“Could you tell us what happened at your meeting, sir,” Alucius asked, “if you can, that is. And about the ammunition?”
“I was looking to do that.” Draspyr lowered his voice. “First, the ammunition. There’s actually a hunting gun used against the plains antelopes that has the same diameter as your cartridges. They have a shorter casing, but the way they’re cut can be adjusted. In fact, the armory is already working out the cartridges, and we should have at least several hundred by tomorrow, and perhaps a great number more in a few days. That was the easy part.”
Several hundred would help, Alucius reflected, but they needed more like several thousand.
“The nomads are another problem,” Draspyr went on. “The submarshal says that the marshal says that the Landarch isn’t convinced that there are pteridons.” He snorted. “I don’t know if that means that Ahorak doesn’t think so or none of them think so. Not one of Ahorak’s officers saw them. They didn’t see them because they were riding away with their lordly tails between their yellow-stained legs.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing that Twenty-first Company didn’t destroy them all,” Heald said quietly. “If we’d managed that, then he never would believe us.”
“Oh…” Feran added, “he’s the kind that will claim we didn’t destroy any of them and that whatever number there might be that come north…
he’ll say that’s how many there always were.”
Alucius had thought about both those possibilities, but was happy he didn’t have to voice them.
“If we weren’t caught in the middle,” Koryt suggested, “I’d almost rather see the nomads take over this place.”
“Enough,” Draspyr said quietly. “We are in the middle, and we have orders to help repel the nomads. If the nomads aren’t thrown back…” He shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
As far as Alucius was concerned, the majer didn’t have to finish the thought.
“What do the Landarch and the marshal want?” Alucius asked. “Did he say?”
“They speak most politely and elegantly, Overcaptain, and at great length. When they’ve finished, I’m not certain still that they have said anything.” Draspyr lifted the beaker of ale before him, then took a swallow. “That tastes good. Almost as good as a solid vyan vintage, but you can’t get those here.” He waited until the cook had delivered his meal and left the table before continuing. “Until today, the marshal—the submarshal—was not even convinced that the nomads were coming, but the Deforyan scouts have reported thirty companies two days south of Dereka. The submarshal suggested that, given the size of the nomad forces, the Lord-Protector might have been well-advised to send more than five companies.”
Koryt winced.
“I just told him that we were here and would do our best.” Draspyr took another swallow of the ale. “I’d like you all to think about how we might best conduct ourselves in an open-field battle. Talk it over among yourselves, and then we’ll meet again tonight after supper. I’m to meet with both the marshal and the submarshal tomorrow morning, when the order of battle—if there is a battle—will be discussed.” Draspyr began to eat his dinner.
Feran looked at Alucius, who provided the slightest of shrugs.
What else could they do but try to figure out how to kill thousands of nomads? That, or kill the last of the pteridons and the nomad warleaders, if they could even determine who and where they were amid the hordes of riders.
Darknesses Page 26
