My dearest Wendra—
This letter will tell you that I am alive and well, if only recently returned to full strength. I was wounded in the final battle at Dereka, but we prevailed, and the nomads retreated to Illegea. It did take several weeks for me to recover enough to be able to ride, and then two more weeks on the high road before we reached Dekhron yesterday.
I am still in Dekhron, but I will not be heading home soon. I am preparing for a journey to Tempre to meet the Lord-Protector, since he has requested my presence to congratulate me on behalf of all those in the Northern Guard. It is still hard at times to think that we are the Northern Guard of Lanachrona, rather than the militia of the Iron Valleys. How long the journey and return will last, I do not know, but it will take several days even before we can depart. I also have no idea how long I will be in Tempre. I will be accompanied by a full squad, but not by the entire company, or what remains of Twenty-first Company. We left the Iron Valleys with four companies at close to full strength, and returned with fewer than two. Twenty-first Company was more fortunate than the others, but we came back with little more than half those who left.
I was most surprised at how empty and how barren the eastern part of northern Lanachrona is, and how few live there. It is almost as dry as our quarasote lands, but dusty rather than sandy. I fear I would never be a southerner. I miss the cool and the open spaces of the stead, and you most of all, and I look forward to the time when I can lay aside the uniform and return.
With all my love
After signing the missive, Alucius folded and sealed it, then wrote Wendra’s name and the address of her father’s cooperage in Iron Stem on the outside before slipping it inside his tunic until he found a guard messenger headed north.
He slowly stood and stretched, then headed out of his quarters. He still had to arrange for the reshoeing of a number of mounts. He also had to write up a report on the losses of mounts and equipment in the battles in Deforya. The colonel had insisted on the report, explaining that while such reports were a formality, they were still required by the Arms-Commander of Lanachrona. Alucius wondered how many other letters and reports would be necessary over the next few days.
84
Tempre, Lanachrona
In the gray light of a cloudy morning, not long after dawn, the Recorder of Deeds stood in his undergarments before the mirror in his private quarters, an apartment consisting of a capacious but not luxurious sitting chamber, a bedchamber, and a combined washroom and dressing room. The quarters had always been those of the Recorder of Deeds and were located on the second level of the Lord-Protector’s palace, a structure rebuilt—and greatly enlarged—several generations earlier upon the foundations of another structure. The Recorder’s chambers were located above the ancient foundations and the underground chambers that had survived the Cataclysm and more.
After taking from the unmarked blue bottle the unguent he had formulated earlier, the Recorder slowly worked it into his dark black hair, then brushed his hair thoroughly. As he brushed, his hair lightened into silver. He studied his reflected visage for a long moment, then set the hairbrush aside. Next, he poured the contents of a second brownish bottle into his hands, and worked the lotionlike liquid into his skin, so that when he had finished, his face appeared lightly tanned, rather than shimmering white. Finally, he lifted a tiny brush and dipped it in a dark liquid. Carefully, most carefully, he applied the liquid along the faintest remnants of the lines that had once creased his face. When he finished, he nodded approvingly before replacing the containers in the plain wooden box. He returned the box to the hidden compartment in the false back of the commode.
Only then did he don his silver vestments as Recorder of Deeds and turn toward the door to begin his day.
85
Alucius struggled through yet another day filled with more administrative details, including having to get authorization from the overcaptain who handled the accounts for horses in order to pay the farrier for reshoeing some fifty mounts, then having to use his Talent to persuade the quartermaster to issue more uniforms without charging the troopers. The quartermaster captain had wanted to insist that the damaged and missing uniforms were the result of carelessness and not normal wear. The captain’s new quartermaster’s manual—sent from Tempre—did not mention battle damage. By using his orders from the Lord-Protector—and his Talent—Alucius managed to get the uniforms for all the returned troopers under the rubric of “at the request of the Lord-Protector.”
He walked around the courtyard for a quarter of a glass after that, taking long and slow deep breaths, before returning to the headquarters building to meet, again, with Colonel Weslyn.
Weslyn had a study on the second level of the building, with a balcony overlooking the courtyard. The double doors were open when Alucius stepped into the room, but the colonel was seated behind an old walnut desk and did not rise.
Weslyn set down the papers he held and looked over the low stacks of papers neatly arranged across the front of the desk. “Good afternoon, Overcaptain. How are matters coming?”
Alucius glanced at the stacks of papers. “I’d thought I’d seen enough paper, but I’d not want to go through all those.”
“The Northern Guard has more reports than the militia did, I fear. It has its advantages and disadvantages. The Council did not wish to see reports, and what they did not wish to see spelled the end of their power, and now I must report directly to the Arms-Commander of Lanachrona. The reports mean that we can explain our situations and our needs, but they take far too much time.” The colonel shrugged. “You had asked to see me?”
“Yes, sir. The Council is no longer—”
“The Lord-Protector dissolved it. He threatened to execute any of the members who protested, then gave them amnesty. Now…what did you have in mind?”
Alucius decided against asking more about the Council. “I had hoped we could talk about the companies that returned from Deforya, if you would not mind.” Alucius looked at the well-dressed colonel.
“Part of that will not be my decision at all,” Weslyn replied smoothly. “I will be making my recommendations to Marshal Wyerl. He is the arms-commander over both the Northern and the Southern Guards, you know, and he will either accept or change my recommendations. It may be some time before we hear. I had thought, based on your recommendation, that we would give the men a month’s furlough. With luck, by the time they return, we will know how to proceed.” Weslyn smiled. “What would you suggest?”
Alucius returned the smile with one equally false, and probably as transparent. “Before we left Emal Outpost, you had mentioned that the Lord-Protector was more interested in adding and reinforcing Northern Guard posts to the north and west. Because we have been well away from the Iron Valleys, I have no knowledge of what has been recommended and accomplished. I would not wish to suggest something contrary to his and your desires. If you could enlighten me, briefly, on where matters stand, and what posts are short of companies?”
The colonel leaned back slightly in the old wooden armchair, smiling more broadly. “Yes…we must consider what is possible, and I wish more officers understood that.”
Alucius ignored the implication that he didn’t, continued smiling politely, and waited.
“The outpost at Soulend was moved to the former stead at the west end of the valley just short of the Westerhills—the same stead, I believe, where the Matrites encamped. It has been expanded to a staging base capable of holding as many as ten companies. There are five there at present. Matters have been slower farther north. This summer we completed a small post for two companies in Eastice, and work is proceeding on a temporary post in the Westerhills east of Klamat. The arms-commander had hoped to begin a northern campaign late this summer, but the logistics dissuaded him. The post in Wesrigg has also been expanded, and there are now five companies there, with space for another five.”
“I see. You have twelve companies on the high roads leading to the northern part of Madrie
n. We had four companies, and I would assume that you have a company here. If I might ask, where are the other four stationed? Along the River Vedra to the west?”
“Exactly.” The colonel smiled. “In fact, the arms-commander has been so impressed with the performance of the Northern Guard that he has indicated that we will receive enough golds to recruit enough troopers to replace those lost in Deforya and train and add three more companies before next spring.”
Alucius could feel his stomach tighten. Clearly, the Lord-Protector intended to use the Northern Guard as the spearhead of the northern assault on Madrien. While Alucius had no great love of Madrien, he also did not see much good in having the troopers of the Iron Valleys die in such an assault, when the benefits would go almost entirely to the south, effectively weakening the Iron Valleys and further strengthening Lanachrona.
Yet, the traders would approve—or not oppose the strategy, Alucius was certain, because it would put more golds in their coffers. More mounts would be purchased, more saddles, more uniforms, and more supplies, and Dekhron would become even more tightly bound to Tempre and Lanachrona—and the herders of the north would become even more isolated.
“Where would you recommend that your companies go?” asked the colonel. “After their furlough?”
Alucius didn’t want to answer the question. If he made a recommendation, it was effectively endorsing the strategy. “I’ve been away for a time, Colonel, and I might have missed something…but…there are a couple of matters. First, more than half of Twenty-first Company troopers finish their tours at year-end.”
“Including their overcaptain, and I’ve been told that your releases will be honored. I had thought that those remaining in Twenty-first Company would be transferred to Fifth Company, except perhaps for any who might be good squad leader material in another company. What else?”
“Well…it seems to me that we’ll be fighting the same war a second time, except that the Lord-Protector will be supplying the golds while we provide the men and blood.”
Weslyn tilted his head to the side, then nodded thoughtfully. “That is a real possibility, Overcaptain. It’s not a good bargain, but it’s the best one we could strike. The Iron Valleys are poor, far poorer than anyone outside the former Council ever knew. We could not have raised the golds to fight off the Lanachronans. We were without the golds even to pay the militia we had, and that was without being in a fight. We had no golds even for ammunition. And a war would have destroyed us. The Southern Guard has been fighting Madrien in the south. They have taken Zalt, and hold Southgate. That was all that allowed us to push back the Matrites the last time. Fighting the Matrites again is not what any of us would wish, but it is far better than anything else that was going to happen.”
Alucius could tell that the colonel honestly believed his own words. Worse, Alucius himself wasn’t so sure that the colonel wasn’t right. “I can’t say that I like the situation…”
“Overcaptain, none of us likes it, and the former members of the Council will like it least of all in time. But you haven’t addressed my question.”
“If I had a choice for those companies,” Alucius said quietly, “I’d request that they be assigned to Soulend.”
“I would have thought Wesrigg.”
“Wesrigg would be more pleasant, but the fighting will be worse, and they’ve fought a great deal with little support.”
Colonel Weslyn frowned. “Why do you think the fighting will be worse out of Wesrigg?”
“Because the lower high road leads to Arwyn, and there are more Matrite companies there, and because Arwyn is far closer to Hieron and can be reinforced more directly and quickly.”
“There won’t be much fighting at all out of Eastice,” Weslyn pointed out.
“No…but a number of troopers said they’d rather do some fighting than be that far north.”
“You asked them?”
“No. They told me so in the spring, when you indicated that many companies would be reassigned. I just recalled what they said then.”
“I see. Well…we’ll see what we can do.” Weslyn cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “What squad do you intend to take to Tempre?”
“My orders from Marshal Wyerl stated that I was to bring a full squad of my choosing. I don’t have a full squad anywhere. I thought I’d bring the third and fourth squads from Twenty-first Company. That works out to nineteen troopers. But I would still want them to get furlough when we return. A full month, the same as the others.”
“That would be satisfactory. When do you plan to leave?”
“The day after tomorrow. That’s as soon as everything will be ready.”
“Good.” With his professional smile, the colonel stood. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need help with…although, from what I’ve seen, you do quite well without it, Overcaptain.”
Alucius stood. “We do the best we can, sir.” He bowed slightly, before leaving.
86
In the early evening, Feran and Alucius sat at one of the small wall tables at Elyset’s Red Ram. Although the shutters were open to let in the cooler evening air, the main room was dim, the wall lamps not yet lit. Each officer had a beaker of amber ale before him.
“What did you find out from the colonel?” asked Feran, before taking a sip of the ale.
“Things are worse than we thought. The Council doesn’t even control the Northern Guard any longer. The Lord-Protector just dissolved the Council. The colonel reports directly to the Arms-Commander of Lanachrona. The Lord-Protector is sending more golds, enough to raise and equip three more Northern Guard companies by next spring. That’s for the attack on Madrien. The colonel didn’t say that, but there’s no other reason to build up the posts east of the Westerhills, and that will weaken us and strengthen Lanachrona by spending our troopers.”
“And…Weslyn…the Council…they’re accepting this?”
“What choice do they have? The Lord-Protector threatened to execute all the members of the Council. No one wanted to fight before. Do you think they would now? Even before that happened, before last spring, the Iron Valleys didn’t have two golds to rub together. They didn’t even have enough coin for ammunition to last the summer.”
“So we go out and die so that they don’t lose their golds. Is that it?”
“They will anyway, in time. No…we go out and fight on Madrien lands so that we don’t fight on Iron Valley lands and so that blood doesn’t flow inside our boundaries. We’re the sacrifice for our families and friends.” Except, Alucius refrained from saying, Feran would be the sacrifice if Alucius went back to being a herder.
“When you put it that way…” Feran sighed, then took a longer swallow of his ale.
“It doesn’t make it much better,” Alucius admitted. “It’s still bad for anyone in the Northern Guard. It’s better for most people, though.”
“How…how did they ever let it get this bad?”
“You know as well as I do. The traders on the Council didn’t want to spend the golds. Neither did the farmers and the crafters. Well…you pay one way or another, and now they’ll all end up paying higher tariffs with less independence because they didn’t want to pay higher tariffs before.” Alucius took a sip of his own ale, then leaned back as the server eased the stew in front of him, and then set a basket of bread between the two men.
“Be a silver each, swells.”
Alucius slipped out a silver and a copper, as did Feran.
Once the woman had left, Feran looked down at his cutlets. “Last year…got the same thing for three coppers.”
“Prices will keep going up.” Alucius broke off a chunk of the rye bread. He would have preferred the softer dark bread, but there wasn’t any molasses, or so the server had said.
“So we pay more for food, too?”
His mouth full of the peppery stew, Alucius nodded.
“You get any chance to find out what they want to do with us?”
“The colonel asked for my
recommendation. I tried to find out more, and that’s when he told me about the extra companies. He wasn’t happy about it, either.”
“You have this habit of telling me things I’d rather not hear, Overcaptain.”
“Might as well get all the bad things over. I suggested sending Fifth Company to Soulend.”
“You volunteered us to go to Soulend?” asked Feran. “You know how I hate the cold.”
“No…I was given choices. You could go to Eastice for the winter, or Soulend, or Wesrigg. At Wesrigg, you’d spearhead next spring’s attack on Arwyn, where the Matrites will bring in every company and weapon they have. You told me you’d do anything to avoid Eastice. So I picked the next least bad choice.”
“Sander-shit world where you win battles that should kill you and still have to settle for the least evil choice,” Feran mumbled as he used his belt knife to cut off a section of cutlet.
“Would you rather have been in Eastice?”
“No. Soulend is better than that…think you’re right about Wesrigg, too.” Feran took another swallow of ale and held the empty beaker up. “What about you?”
“Leave the day after tomorrow for Tempre. The colonel let me consolidate third and fourth squads to take with me. I’ll take Faisyn and leave Egyl in charge of the company—except they’ll be on furlough. So will you. Everyone gets a month. We get a month when we get back.”
“Nothing’s happening this harvest or fall, then.” Feran handed the beaker to the server.
“Except building up the posts in the Westerhills and training more troopers.”
“Why do you think the Lord-Protector wants you to go to Tempre?”
“I don’t know. It worries me. I’m just a lowly overcaptain, and a very junior one. He rules an entire land. If it’s just a gesture, it’s a strange one.”
Darknesses Page 34
