Mage-Guard of Hamor (56 page)

From the saddle of the gelding, Rahl surveyed the perfectly smooth paving stones of the highway leading down the wide and gentle slope into the circular valley that held Nubyat, its harbor, and the fertile land to the north bordering the delta of the Awhut River. Several kays behind Third Company was Commander Shuchyl's Fifth Regiment, followed by the bulk of Second Army. As usual, Third Company was the point of the advance.

The terrain surprised Rahl. He'd expected steads with tilled fields, or even woods, or grasslands. Instead, the gentle slopes held orchards of the dwarf olives and occasional blue oaks interspersed in a few places with winter brown grass. The only croplands were to the north and east of Nubyat, along the river, and fed by irrigation ditches. Stretching everywhere else were primarily olive orchards, with occasional structures that appeared to be warehouses. A kay or so ahead, the orchards ended, and there looked to be dwellings on small plots of land between the olive orchards and Nubyat proper, where the dwellings were more tightly clustered.

The harbor area, according to the maps, was on the north side of the city, just south of where the Awhut River entered the bay. Rahl was relying on the maps because fog wreathed the harbor area, so that the lower sections of Nubyat were hidden under a gray-white blanket. Above the south side of the port city loomed a long, high ridge that came to a point above the bay, each side of the peninsular promontory a rocky cliff that offered a sheer drop, but whether there was solid ground or water under the cliffs, Rahl could not have said, fog-shrouded as the lower ground was.

Nubyat didn't seem as large as Rahl had expected, and far smaller than Swartheld, although it was certainly larger than Nylan or Land's End in Recluce. “It's not all that big.”

“It wouldn't be this big,” replied Drakeyt from where he had reined up beside Rahl, “except that it's on the river and one of the few decent ports in the west. The best olive oil comes from here, though.” He looked to Rahl. “I don't seen any earthworks on this side of the city.”

Rahl pointed to the ridge that held the Administrator's Residence. “I'd judge that they've withdrawn to the high ground.”

“That would make sense. No one really wants to destroy the town, and it'd be impossible to defend it.” Drakeyt laughed, a short bark. “But I'd be surprised if they hadn't left some forces behind to give us trouble.”

Rahl nodded, even while he wondered about the way the campaign had progressed. The Imperial forces had taken heavy losses, but they had prevailed in every skirmish and battle. Why hadn't Golyat seen that would happen? Why hadn't the rebels offered more resistance? Or was their strategy to withdraw and withdraw, all the time inflicting more and more losses on the Emperor's armies until they could deliver a critical defeat upon the Imperial forces? Would First and Second Army have to fight their way in two directions from Nubyat, northward to Elmari and south to Sastak? Was that where the greater resistance might be?

He looked again to the rocky ridge, one of two promontories that flanked the opening to the harbor, then to the one to the north, which held what appeared to be a neglected fort, with scraggly vines climbing stones of the wall. He shook his head. “We still need to discover where the rebels are.”

“Lead on, Majer.”

Rahl laughed, then urged the gelding forward to rejoin Alrydd a good quarter kay ahead of first squad. The scouts had halted on the road another half kay beyond the outrider. Once Rahl rode up to Alrydd and kept riding, if at a cautious walk, the scouts resumed their progress.

The orchards stretched farther than Rahl had realized, and he rode close to two kays before he neared their end, where, several hundred cubits ahead, a stone wall ran perpendicular to the road, ending some twenty cubits short of the shoulder on each side. Beyond the wall there were no olive groves, just small plots with neat houses and miniature fields—or large gardens—behind each.

Rahl frowned. There was something about the wall, yet he could not see what it might be, and Taryl had been insistent about his not order-probing ahead. “Scouts! Back!” He order-boosted his words, just slightly, not enough for his use of order to be detected from any distance.

The two scouts had almost reached a point even with the wall: but, when they turned and started to ride back, arrows began to arch toward them from behind the wall. One of the troopers took three shafts and toppled from the saddle, a boot catching in a stirrup so that the mount started to drag him, then stopped. The other scout flattened himself against his horse and urged it into a full gallop.

“Frig!” muttered Rahl under his breath. He should have trusted his vague feelings. Should have…demons, he was getting tired of learning what he should have done too late to be as effective as he could have been.

The fallen scout was dead, but the remaining trooper rode beyond the range of the archers without getting hit, then straightened in the saddle as he neared Rahl and Alrydd.

Rahl studied the wall and the ground beyond. There was no real way to outflank the archers, not easily, because the wall ran at least a kay in each direction, if not more, and for all of that length it was bordered by the orchards filled with the dwarf olives. Trying to move a company through that was asking for even more trouble.

Drakeyt rode forward and joined Rahl. “What do you suggest, Majer?”

“Let me take a squad. I can shield that many from the arrows if they stay close to me.”

“We'll move up just short of their range. If there are more than you can handle…”

“I wouldn't think there could be too many rebels,” Rahl pointed out. “There's no sign of any beyond the wall, and the wall can't hide anything like a company.”

“Unless they're hidden behind those dwellings in squads.”

Rahl nodded.

Drakeyt turned his mount. “I'll send Dhosyn and first squad forward.”

As Rahl waited for first squad, he looked more closely at the wall, but he could see no sign of the rebel archers, although he could sense some men there, if only vaguely. The sound of hoofs on stone announced the arrival of first squad.

“First squad! Close up on the majer!” ordered Dhosyn.

Flanked by two troopers with their blades out, and with Dhosyn and first squad directly behind him, Rahl rode forward toward the wall. When they were within a hundred cubits, just past the mount of the fallen scout, the arrows once more lofted over the wall and sleeted down toward Rahl and the troopers. Rahl extended his shields. The arrows skittered off and onto the road and its shoulders. For a moment, the only sound was that of hoofs on stone.

Then another flight of shafts rose…and fell. But even before they skittered off Rahl's shields, a good score of archers ran from behind the wall on both the left and the right sides of the road and sprinted toward the nearest dwellings, vanishing behind them. Several entered the small house on the northwest side of the road.

Rahl and first squad rode past the wall and toward the nearer dwelling, the one on the right.

A shutter popped open, and another shaft flew at Rahl. He reeled back in the saddle as it hit his shield. It had been a heavy iron cross-bow quarrel.

“Forward!” He urged the gelding into canter. There was no sense in riding sedately against that sort of attack, and who knew what else might be hidden inside that cot—or others along the road. He turned in the saddle and called to Dhosyn, “We'll move ahead and clean them out, house by house.”

The next quarrel was off target, but still tugged at his shields.

Rahl reined up outside the barred door of the cot, a dwelling no more than fifteen cubits by twenty, with but two windows facing the road, both shuttered.

“Feragyt! Take three and clean it out!” ordered the squad leader, tossing a metal pry bar to the trooper.

Four troopers dismounted and surged toward the cot. In moments, the door was off its hinges, and the troopers had disappeared inside.

Rahl could sense the deaths—and only three of the four troopers stepped back out.

“Nasty thing, this.” Feragyt held a massive iron crossbow. “There were three of the sows. They're all dead. So's Dermyt.”

“Just leave the crossbow for now,” Rahl ordered.

Another flight of arrows—as well as several crossbow bolts—flew toward the squad.

Rahl deflected them, then turned to the squad leader. “We'll take the next one. This time, I'll go first.”

“Ser…”

“They're setting it up so that whoever enters gets shot,” Rahl countered. “We don't need to lose a trooper for every dwelling we enter, and we can't leave the rebels here, and if we burn them out, we might as well have lost Nubyat to Golyat.”

“Yes, ser.” Unlike some of the other squad leaders, Dhosyn seemed inclined to accept what Rahl had said, and without resentment.

Rahl waited for the others to mount, then strengthened his shields and rode toward the next dwelling. As before, both shafts and iron bolts flew toward him, but the combination of his shields and riding swiftly lessened their exposure. This time, a front shutter opened, but Dhosyn rode up from the side and slammed it shut.

Three troopers dismounted, and Rahl followed them, but stepped forward enough to keep his shields between them and the door. The trooper with the pry bar inserted it, and began to yank in quick powerful movements. The bolt on the other side gave way, and the door swung open.

Rahl moved forward, his truncheon in hand, as did one of the troopers with a sabre. Just when he entered the front room two arrows flew at him, bouncing from his shields. The two archers dropped their bows. Pulling long knives, they lunged toward Rahl and the trooper beside him.

Rahl's truncheon slammed the knife from the hand of one archer, and the trooper evaded the other archer and ran the sabre through his neck. After grabbing a stool in his good hand, the wounded archer swung back toward Rahl. This time, Rahl brought the truncheon across the archer's temple, and the man went down…dead.

He hadn't hit the man that hard, had he? Or had the archer been influenced by chaos? With so much death around, Rahl wasn't all that certain. What was certain was that there were no other rebels in the small dwelling, and he hurried out and remounted.

After that, the pattern in the next three cots was exactly the same, and none of the archers even tried to surrender, but threw themselves at Rahl and the Imperial troopers. All the rebels died.

As he rode up to the next cot, Rahl could sense a difference. There had not been quite so many arrows, and he had the feeling that there might be others in the cot beside rebels. He dismounted, careful to hold his shields firm.

Rahl held his truncheon ready as the trooper wedged the pry bar in place, then heaved, once…twice…and on the third attempt the door broke away from the hinges. Before the trooper had barely stepped back from the door, it sagged to one side, then fell back into the dwelling with a dull thud.

One of the rebel archers stood there. He held a knife to the neck of a girl, not quite a young woman. “You come any closer, and I'll kill her.”

Rahl could feel the girl's terror, and the look in her eyes reminded him of Jienela. He hesitated.

“I mean it.”

“Why do you want to hurt an innocent girl?” asked Rahl, keeping his voice calm.

The rebel did not look at Rahl, but at the trooper with the pry bar. “You're killing everyone else. I just want out of here.”

“Let her go, and you won't be hurt,” Rahl said. The rebel might later suffer, but not now, not with the girl's life at stake.

Abruptly, the rebel turned toward Rahl. His eyes widened. “No! Not one of you!” The knife slashed, biting deeply into the girl's neck, so deeply that crimson spurted everywhere. Then the archer flung the girl at the trooper with the pry bar and darted away from Rahl.

Rahl didn't even think, leaping after the rebel and striking with the long truncheon, reinforced with order and fury. The man died instantly, his skull crushed. For a long moment, Rahl just looked at his body, then turned back toward the girl. She was dead.

He could feel his eyes burning. Then he swallowed. “We need to check the cot.” He stepped inside. Immediately, he could feel death. An older woman lay, half-naked, on a pallet. She might have been pretty once, but her throat had been slashed. Another archer lay dead beside her.

Rahl swallowed, then turned and stepped out into the somewhat cleaner air outside, standing there silently. After a moment, he wiped the truncheon on the tunic of the man he'd killed. “Let's root out the rest of them.”

He remounted the gelding without another word and waited for the squad to re-form, then rode toward the next cot. The door was open, and there were tracks in the dust.

Rahl could see a mere handful of men in maroon hurrying toward a shed. In moments, they had recovered their mounts and were galloping southward.

“They saw what happened,” suggested Dhosyn.

“They must have seen some of what we did before,” Rahl said.

“Yes, ser, but it was the way you crushed the last one that broke them. You flattened the back of his head like a rotten gourd.”

He had? Rahl frowned. He could have, given how angry he'd been.

After a time, he took a long and deep breath. “We might as well see what lies ahead.” He turned the gelding back to the paved road.

There was no sign of any more rebels in the small dwellings along the road leading into Nubyat. The streets were deserted, and all was so quiet that the echoes of hoofs on stone sounded more like quick hammerblows. The dwellings were all shuttered, and Rahl sensed many were empty.

A movement to his right caught his eye, and he turned in the saddle. He found himself watching a scruffy black-and-brown hound easing into an alleyway.

Slowly, the squads of Third Company rode the main side streets, coming back to the main avenue that the highway had become, all reporting no sign of rebels…or much of anything else. Before long, Rahl rode into a square, certainly a major square, because it had a central plaza and a pedestal bearing the statue of one of the emperors of Hamor. Rahl smiled. The statue was old, but the face could have been that of Emperor Mythalt.