Legacies (21 page)

Four days later, on Sexdi, there was much less enthusiasm in the singing of the cavalry replacements. The sky had turned leaden gray and cloudy. The wind blew unremittingly out of the northwest, as if it had come directly from the Moors of Yesterday, damp and freezingly chill.

Intermittent snow flurries, with tiny flakes as sharp as miniature burrs, came and went. The wheels of the supply wagons creaked and shrilled in the cold of the afternoon.

Not for the first time, Alucius wondered how Wendra was doing, and how long before he would see her again. He also wondered about his grandmother, and her sense that she would not see him again. With a headshake, he brought his attention back to the road.

According to the last distance stone, they were less than ten vingts south of Soulend, but the hamlet that had been a town generations before was nowhere in sight. Alucius's face was numb from the wind, and even under his winter cap, his ears were chill.

The road continued to run due north, like a rifle barrel, as if it would stretch straight to the Ice Sands and the Black Cliffs beyond, and the slightly rolling plains on either side looked little different from those immediately north of Iron Stem, with small drifts of snow piled against the quarasote and frozen bare sandy red soil in most places. To the northeast, the Aerlal Plateau loomed larger than he'd ever seen it. That was as it should have been, because it was less than thirty vingts from Soulend and more than twice that from Iron Stem.

Alucius frowned. He could smell smoke, but it was more like wood burning than coal, and it carried an unfamiliar scent.

“All squads! Quick-step!”

At Gurnelt's order, Alucius looked up, even as he urged the gray forward. To the left of the road, a lane led to the northwest, and the column had turned down the lane.

“Raiders ahead. Pass the word. Raiders ahead…”

Raiders? South of Soulend, and so close to the town?

Above the riders in front of him, Alucius could see a thin column of smoke.

“First six riders! To the left, cut off their access to the back road there! Don't push your mounts until you're within a hundred yards!”

Abruptly, Alucius found himself in the front of the column as the six riders before him had veered to the left across flat and hard ground, empty even of quarasote.

Less than two hundred yards ahead, four men, outlined against the flames, struggled to remount horses. One of the horses pulled its reins from the rider's hands, leaving the man standing before the burning hut. Behind the hut was a low hill scarcely two or three times the height of the hut itself.

“Next four ranks—Alucius through Tyreas—charge straight ahead. Sabres at the ready. No quarter…

“Fourth and fifth squads, follow me!”

Alucius urged his mount forward even as he unsheathed his sabre. From the corner of his eyes, and with his Talent, he could sense the half-squad-sized group that Gurnelt was leading quick-stepping slightly to the left.

He was perhaps fifty yards from the hut when there was a single
crack
, followed by two others. But the three mounted raiders did not remain to face the charge. After firing once, they turned and rode eastward, leaving their unmounted comrade behind.

As he rode toward the hut and the one brigand, from somewhere, Alucius heard another command.

“Halt and fire! Halt and fire!”

The remaining brigand held a long blade, and stood defiantly, awaiting the shorter sabres of the militia cavalry, smiling, almost mockingly.

Not knowing quite why, Alucius pulled up his mount short, a good ten yards back from the man, left his blade across his thighs, hoping the gray would not rear, and yanked out his rifle, cocking and aiming it in one motion.

The first shot missed the Reillie. The second did not, and the man staggered. His knees buckled, and he fell backward.

“Company regroup! Regroup at the hut!”

For a moment, Alucius just sat on the gray, stunned at his aim, although he should not have been, not after the years of dealing with sanders and sandwolves. After a quick glance around that showed no brigands standing, he slipped the rifle back into its holster and resheathed his blade before it slipped to the ground. Then he eased the gray into formation.

Gurnelt rode toward the second group, the one that Alucius had led. He reined up opposite Alucius. “Alucius, why did you handle the brigand that way?”

“Sir. You gave a command to halt and fire. He had a longer blade. I wasn't sure if the command was to us, but it made sense. So I did.”

“All right.” Gurnelt nodded, then raised his voice. “Reform in column. Same order as before.”

“Sir! Oliuf's hurt.”

“It's not bad, sir,” Oliuf protested.

“Let's see.” Gurnelt turned his mount toward the injured cavalryman. “Retius, collect the blade and the rifle from the Reillie. When we get back to the wagons, hand it over to one of the drivers to take to the outpost.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Gurnelt rode toward Oliuf, Alucius looked eastward where two militia troopers had collected two of the raider mounts and were returning to the cavalry column with the captured horses. The third and fourth mounts had escaped. Alucius could see three figures in yellow-and-black, sprawled on the cold ground.

His eyes went back at the brigand he had shot, lying about ten yards in front of the hut. The man lay face up, darkening blood across his plaid and a sheepskin jacket so old that in places the leather had worn through to reveal the back side of the inner fleece. The gray-haired and gray-bearded man's face was thin—gaunt—and his body angular.

“Don't look so tough,” Ramsat muttered.

“Some are, and some aren't,” Gurnelt replied absently as he bound Oliuf's arm. “Best you treat them all as dangerous until you find out otherwise. Another handspan or so to the left here, and Oliuf would have been on the ground with them.” He looked at the injured man. “You're luckier than you know. Doesn't look deep, but let me know if you feel weak. Don't wait.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Oliuf.

Alucius looked beyond the dead raider toward the small stone hut from which only thin trails of gray and black smoke drifted. What little wood there had been had already burned.

“They were surprised, and they only fired three shots,” Gurnelt said. “One of them hit one of us. Think about what might have happened if there had been ten of them with time to fire.”

There was silence, broken only by the faint hissing and crackling of the few last tongues of flame coming from the hut.

“Column forward! Back to the road and the wagons!”

Alucius did not look back. All he sensed beyond the riders who surrounded him was the absolute emptiness of death.

In the dimness of a winter twilight, the column of replacement troopers rode past two militia foot sentries occupying a small hutlike guard post. Behind the cavalry came the supply wagons, their wheels shrilling even more loudly than before. Alucius glanced back to the east. Although the hamlet of Soulend was less than two vingts away, there was not a lamp or a fire visible from the score or so of dwellings huddled among the heaps of stone that dominated what once had been a far larger town.

“Column halt!” Gurnelt ordered.

Once the tired riders stopped, the squad leader addressed them immediately. “Stable your mounts and groom them. The stone building with the green posts is the stable. You can take any stall that doesn't have gear or a name on it and seems empty. Just like at Sudon, you're responsible for keeping it clean. The company ostlers are supposed to take care of feed and water, but you make sure they do. After you get your mounts settled, form up in the open space just inside the barracks. That's the long building with the black posts. You'll report to your new squad leader by squads after that. Then you can eat. Some of you may have to help unload the supplies, but that will be decided by the captain and the company senior squad leader…”

As the blocky Gurnelt finished, Alucius studied the outpost, clearly a stead that had been abandoned, and then partially restored. The stone building serving as the stable had been a sheep shed, and the slate roof had been pieced and patched back together hastily with broken slates and bitumen. The barracks looked to have been a larger stock barn, and the replacement slates used were larger and matched the original roof more closely. The stead dwelling, in far better shape, was probably where the officers, and perhaps the squad leaders, were quartered.

“…fall out by squads. First squad replacements!”

“It could be worse,” murmured Kypler under his breath, breath that steamed in the chill air.

Alucius could see smoke from various chimneys and hoped for some warmth, although the ride from Sudon had not been any worse than a series of long days herding in the winter. The sleeping in a bedroll in waystations that barely blocked the wind had been worse, and he missed being able to wash up.

“Second squad…”

Alucius rode toward the stable, then dismounted. A white-haired and thin man in a worn brown leather jacket was standing just inside the stable.

Alucius offered a smile. “You might be the ostler.”

“Brannal, trooper, and yes, I'm the head ostler.”

Brannal didn't feel hostile, but almost indifferent. Alucius tried to project friendliness and deference. “Alucius, very new to the second squad. Have you any suggestions?”

A faint smile cracked the weathered face. “The far end on the right. Troopers avoid it because they have to walk the length of the stable, but it's drier and warmer.”

Alucius inclined his head. “Thank you, Brannal. I appreciate it.”

“No bother.” But Brannal did hold the smile for a moment as Alucius led the gray past him.

While the stalls at the far end were a walk, almost fifty yards, Alucius could see why they were drier. The ground sloped upward, if barely, and there were fewer watermarks on the timbers underlying the slats holding the roof slates. Alucius took his time unloading the gray and grooming him, checking hoofs, and then his tack. As he was finishing, a younger ostler appeared carrying water buckets.

“Thank you.” Alucius paused, then asked, “What do I do about feed?”

“We're a bit short on grain, trooper, until the wagons get unloaded, but there's already some hay in the manger there, and we can spare some grain.”

“Anything that you can, I'd appreciate it.” Alucius smiled and offered friendliness. “I'm Alucius.”

“Kesper, and I'm one of Brannal's assistants.”

“He seems to be careful about watching everything.”

“Good man, he is, and there's not much he doesn't know about horses.” Kesper looked over the gray. “Yours for a while?”

“Five years,” Alucius admitted.

“You're a herder, then?”

“From north of Iron Stem.”

“You'll be knowing what to do then.” Kesper nodded. “We'll see about that grain.”

“I'd appreciate it, and so would he.” Alucius inclined his head toward the gray.

As Kesper walked away, Kypler looked over the stall wall at Alucius. “How do you do it? They growled at the rest of us.”

“I just try to be friendly,” Alucius said. “Most of the time, it can't hurt.”

Kypler laughed. “Unless you're dealing with brigands—or with Dolesy.”

The two shouldered their gear, and carried their rifles, walking down the center of the stable and then out through the middle door—a door that had been created recently, Alucius could tell from the rough masonry that had yet to age or weather. Like the barracks in Sudon, the front of the Soulend barracks was an open assembly area. A trooper who appeared younger than Alucius stood just inside.

“What squad?”

“Second,” Alucius answered.

“That's Delar's. He's the big blond squad leader over to the right.”

Retius and Velon were already standing at rest before Delar, their gear at their feet.

The squad leader glanced across the two, then said, “You're Alucius, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you?”

“Kypler, sir.”

“Good. Fall in. I hope we don't have to wait too long for the last two.”

Before long, Oliuf and Akkar appeared.

“Now that you're all here,” Delar began, “we can get through with matters, and then you can get something to eat. It's better than at Sudon, but not much, but there's usually plenty. Oh, and Oliuf…I want you to see the company surgeon right after dinner. The Company bunk spaces are laid out by squad. Take any one that's vacant. I'll be inspecting all your gear in the morning, and I mean all your gear. Rifles are to be stored in your footchest unloaded. Unloaded. I'll have your pay docked a copper if I find cartridges in the magazine or chamber. You load in the stable, after you're saddled. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No fighting. Not in the squad. Not in the company. First offense is a month's pay. Second is a flogging. Self-defense is allowed
…but…
you'd better have a witness, and if I find anyone's lied about it, that's also a flogging. Understood?”

With barely a pause, Delar went on. “Gurnelt reported that you ran into some Reillies earlier today and took care of them. That's good. That's also the easiest fight you'll have in a long time. The better armed brigands, and they are mostly Reillies, have moved to the north of Soulend. This year most of them grew very little, and there are more of them in the steads they took over, so whatever the previous owners grew wasn't enough.” Delar glanced across the faces of the new men. “Some of you are asking why we didn't protect those stead holders. It's simple. First, some of them were outside the boundaries of the Iron Valleys. Second, none of them ever paid tariffs for protection. Third, we don't have enough squads to patrol and hold every stead in more than a hundred vingts.

“We do regular patrols, by squad, and you're all lucky, because second squad has tomorrow off. We will mount up and run through some commands and drills tomorrow, so that you're familiar with how I do things. I'm not supposed to say much, because Captain Heald will say more when we form up in the morning, but the Reillies don't look to be the big problem…”

Alucius refrained from nodding.

“…we're beginning to get reports of Matrite patrols as close as twenty-five vingts to the west. Like I said, the captain will say more. Now…you're hungry, and you won't hear much more. So go pick out a bunk, and then I'll take you all over to the mess.”

Alucius was more than ready for supper, no matter what it was.