Cyador’s Heirs (70 page)

How could you have known?
Yet he understands that, woman or not, in the end, he could do no different. For all that, he feels like he should somehow mourn, not even knowing what he might be mourning.

Amid that devastation he can make out the three Meroweyan wagons, of which little remains but the iron wheel rims, the iron axle bearing rings, other iron parts he cannot identify with charred wooden remnants that might have been anything. He can feel, through his recurrent pounding headache, that Bhurl and Fhentaar have reined up several yards away, but not approached nearer, whether out of deference or fear, he cannot tell.

“Angel-flamed … never see anything like that…”

“Might give Duke Casseon something to think about…”

“Might. Too bad Moraris couldn’t see this,” Fhentaar continues in a low voice to Bhurl.

“He’d have asked the captain to spare the wagons so he could trade them,” returns the other squad leader.

Moraris would have said something about capturing them, that they would have been worth something
 … After that vagrant thought, Lerial just sits in the saddle and looks across the charred ground. His eyes burn, and his head still throbs.

He feels tired … and like sowshit.

What else could you do? You could have lost half the company if you’d charged them with sabres.
And yet … to strike them down with lightning …
But they used chaos-fire against both the Verdyn Lancers and the Verd itself.

None of that makes him feel any better.

LXXVII

On sixday evening, second company stays in some of the houses in Ironwood that have not yet been reoccupied. Lerial does not bother with detailing Lancers to bury the remnants of the Meroweyans. There are likely no remnants to speak of, and after all his men have done, that is something that the locals can do—or not—as they wish. He sleeps, if not well, with troubling dreams that he cannot recall once he is fully awake. While the throbbing in his head has eased, it has not eased that much, but at least his eyesight is not blurred.

After eating a mixture whose ingredients he does not wish to know for what passes as breakfast, Lerial meets with the squad leaders, and then effectively acting as squad leader for first squad, with those rankers. Then he begins to groom the gelding, under skies that are largely clear, except to the southwest. He also notices a faint acrid smoky odor, the same one that, he realizes, he has smelled ever since he loosed the lightning the afternoon before. Yet the air is clear, without a sign of haze or smoke. Immediately after he grooms and then saddles his mount, a thin man in a faded brown shirt and worn brown trousers approaches … just before Lerial is about to order the company to mount up and begin the return to Escadya.

“You’re the captain here?”

“I am,” replies Lerial warily, trying to be pleasant despite the headache that remains far from entirely fading.

“Mite bit young for that, aren’t you?” The man shakes his head. “What happened to those cess-swilling Meroweyans? They be back any time soon?”

“Almost all of them are dead. Those that aren’t are wounded or captives in Escadya.” Lerial pauses, then adds, “There might be a few wandering around here and there, but they’d likely be near Escadya … maybe Faerwest.”

“You’d not be stuffing my ears now, would you?”

“No. Most of them are dead.” Lerial’s voice comes out flat.

“How’d that happen, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Lerial does, especially with the annoying, almost whining, tone of the man’s speech that seems to worsen the pounding inside his skull, but he manages a smile. “The Meroweyans lost almost ten companies in the skirmishes with the Verdyn Lancers on their march toward Verdell. Some of the Lancers lured one army into a trap at Faerwest, and the elders burned them up in a huge fire. I understand the fire also destroyed the town. The other army, the one that came through here, attacked the Lancers just south of Escadya. More than half the invaders were killed by lightning. The others were killed, wounded, or captured by the Lancers. We destroyed the last two companies just outside the road gates south of Nevnarnia yesterday afternoon.”

“‘Destroyed.’ Big word for a young fellow like you.”

Lerial smiles faintly. “Go and see.”

Abruptly, the man edges back, then nods his head. “Be thanking you.” With that, he turns and walks quickly away.

Lerial watches him for several moments, then mounts. Second company needs to get back to Escadya.

A glass later, as second company is riding northwest on the main road, empty except for them, he is still pondering why the man, clearly a resident of Ironwood, had so suddenly decided to cut his inquisition of Lerial short. Had it been the certainty in Lerial’s voice? Or something else?

He glances up as the light seems to fade, realizing that a cloud must have crossed the sun.
Now there are clouds.
His smile is wry. The smile fades as he realizes he still smells the bitter acridity of smoke, if faintly.

Riding beside Lerial, Bhurl clears his throat. “Been thinking, ser. Might there be many chaos wizards in the Heldyan forces?”

In the Heldyan forces?
“I wouldn’t know. Before we came to Verdheln, I knew that Duke Casseon had some wizards, but no one seemed to know how many. I’ve not heard anything about mages or wizards in either Afrit or Heldya. I’m sure there must be some. Why?”

“Couldn’t say, ser. Except it seems like … well … trouble just doesn’t visit alone, if you know what I mean. The Afritans are stirring things up. Same for the Heldyans … and here comes Duke Casseon.”

“They say troubles come triple,” replies Lerial with a smile. “It could be that the Duke and the Mirror Lancers have taken care of the others as well.”

“Be good if they have.” Bhurl nods, then frowns. “You know those wizards … they’re sneakylike. Can’t even see if they’re with armsmen. Can make a man a mite skittish thinking about it.”

“We managed.”

“Yes, ser, we did. Mostly you, ser.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without all the Mirror Lancers who came, or the majer, or the elders of the Verd. It took all of us.”

“Yes, ser.” Bhurl offers a smile.

For the next kay or so, the squad leader’s words prey on Lerial, and he can’t help thinking,
What happens if you don’t see or sense a chaos wizard? What can you do about that? Can you make an order diversion pattern that is part of the flow of order and chaos around you all the time?

Lerial has the definite feeling that is something he needs to work on … and soon, or as soon as his head stops pounding. He also has the feeling that there are other things he needs to do … if he could just think of them.

LXXVIII

It is well past seventh glass, twilight is deepening into night when second company rides into the training compound on the south end of Escadya and reins up before the stables. It is more than a glass later before Lerial finishes settling the company and making sure that they have had the first real meal in three days. He acts as squad leader for Korlyn, as he has been doing, although that isn’t the best idea, but he has no real idea which of the Verdyn Lancers might be best for the position, and there certainly aren’t any spare Mirror Lancers to take the squad. He can still recall, all too vividly, the look on Korlyn’s face, when he had left to chase down the Meroweyans.

Only after all that does he seek out Altyrn, who has not intruded.

The majer is waiting, standing outside the study he has used for eightdays, with the door slightly ajar. “Welcome back. I presume you had some success?”

How do you answer that?
“I did what I set out to do.”

“Come in and tell me about it.” Altyrn steps to the side and opens the door, gesturing for Lerial to enter.

Lerial does so and then seats himself on the single straight-backed chair in front of the narrow desk. Absently, he massages his forehead with his right hand for a moment. “Before we start, what about Juist and Denieryn and their companies?”

“Juist is fine. Denieryn…” Altyrn shakes his head, then closes the door, and sits down behind the desk. “He lost almost two squads to firebolts, and he was one of the first hit. I’ve transferred the survivors from sixth company to third to bring it up to full strength. We’ll move trainees into the other four companies.” Altyrn looks directly at Lerial, then smiles. “You know, when you headed out after the Meroweyans, that’s the first time you’ve taken the initiative to do something well beyond your orders.”

“I could see it was necessary.”

“It might have been, but you have yet to tell me what it was that you did.”

Lerial can see that Altyrn likely has already guessed, but it is good manners, and safer, to describe exactly what happened, not necessarily detail by detail. “We followed them all the way to the road gates south of Nevnarnia and out onto the grasslands. They formed up. They had about two companies worth of mounted armsmen, but all kinds, as if there were a few from one kind of company and a few from others. There was one white wizard. We faced each other, and then they started to turn and leave.” Lerial pauses. “I used order and lightning to slaughter them to the last person. She was the white wizard.”

Altyrn nods.

“We spent the night in Ironwood and rode back. Here we are.”

“Why do you think it was necessary to slaughter them all?” Altyrn’s voice is calm and level.

“I don’t want to have to fight them again, and the Verdyn shouldn’t have to, either.”

“That leaves the question of prisoners. There are more than a hundred. Most are wounded. What would you suggest?”

“Make all of them help clean up the mess they made. Then send them back to Casseon … unless they want to stay, if the elders will have them, or you think any would make decent Mirror Lancers.”

“Some might. We’ll have to see.” Altyrn clears his throat. “What you did to Casseon’s armsmen and wizards was drastic, even for war. Don’t you think that your acts will just enrage Casseon and prompt him to send an even larger force?”

“It might. But it might not if he received a dispatch from the Duke of Cigoerne pointing out that two squads of Mirror Lancers and six companies of Verdyn Lancers destroyed over forty companies and at least six white wizards … and that Cigoerne has no designs on any other part of Merowey, but does respect the right of the people of the Verd to choose who will rule them, particularly since the Duchy of Merowey has provided neither assistance nor leadership to Verdheln.”

“That last part might be a bit strong.”

“You’re right.”

“We don’t have to worry about that part of it.” Altyrn smiles again. “Your father does. He will worry, but likely not too much. He sent us to keep Casseon from taking over the Verd. We did. Or rather, you did much of that.”

“I think there should be very little said about what I did.”

“That is your choice. That might be the wisest course, but you will have to see what your father says.”

And how it affects Lephi.
That could be another problem, one that Lerial has not considered.

“You’ll have some time to think about that on your return to Cigoerne. You’ll be leaving on twoday.”

“I will?” Lerial has not even thought about what he would do, or be required to do, after dealing with the Meroweyans.

“There’s nothing else you can do here now. You’ve certainly demonstrated your father’s and your commitment to Verdheln. Your father needs to hear what happened, especially from you. I’ll send a sealed and written report with you. Two copies. One for your father, and one to Majer Phortyn. I trust you also won’t mind carrying a letter to Maeroja … and the girls, of course.”

“Not at all.” Lerial understands that, especially since he will get to see Ryalah and Amaira, while Altyrn is still mired in Verdheln. Absently, he also wonders how Rojana is doing. Without the lodestone she had given him … He returns his attention to Altyrn.

“You’ll lead half a squad of mostly Verdyn Lancers. You’ll need some Mirror Lancers as well. We’ll go over who they should be tomorrow.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not done. We need to train more Verdyn Lancers, and give the ones who’ve survived more training. What do you think about Bhurl as acting undercaptain for second company?”

“He’d do better than Moraris or Fhentaar. You might think about putting Moraris in charge of procurement or supplies. I think he’s a born trader.”

“That might not be a bad idea … if he even wants to stay.”

“How long do you intend…?”

“Another season should see them well enough established that they can provide companies to help Cigoerne … if necessary. What’s important is that they have a core of Lancers who’ve been through skirmishes and battles.”

Lerial stifles a yawn. He
is
tired.

“You need some sleep, I can see. There’s one other thing.”

“Ser?”

“Did you ever think that, if something happened to me, you would be in command of the Verdyn Lancers?”

“No. Actually, I didn’t.” That is certainly true enough.

“I’m not chastising you. What you did was the right thing to do. I would be happier if you had made that decision after considering all the factors. Those are things you will need to weigh in the future.”

That, Lerial also understands.

“Go get some sleep.”

Lerial doesn’t protest. He just stands. “Good night, ser.”

After he leaves Altyrn’s study, thinking about returning to Cigoerne and carrying a report from Altyrn to Majer Phortyn, a thought strikes him. Outside of the letter from Emerya and the one dispatch from Phortyn to Altyrn, they have received nothing from Cigoerne.
Because no one wants to spare men as couriers … or because Phortyn doesn’t consider Altyrn’s task a true Mirror Lancer mission and only sent the one dispatch because it cost him little to do so?

Another yawn comes over him. He is tired.

LXXIX

A good night’s sleep and some solid, if not particularly appetizing ghano-acorn hash for breakfast has Lerial feeling far better on oneday morning when he goes to meet with Altyrn to discuss who might be best to accompany Lerial on his return journey to Cigoerne.