Heritage of Cyador

XXIX

Just after dawn on fiveday morning, Lerial and his three companies leave the headquarters post and begin the ride south along the shore road toward South Post and South Point. The latest reports from Subcommander Dhresyl indicate that the Heldyans have moved to a point some three kays north of the Harbor Post, but show no signs of an imminent attack on Swartheld, and that more merchanters have ported at the tileworks, although scouts report those vessels to be carrying mounts.

The more Lerial thinks about the situation, the angrier he finds himself getting. Afrit, as a land, is wealthier than either Cigoerne or Heldya, and it has more people. Its merchants are richer, and yet they have watched Duke Khesyn build up forces and done little. The only mages or wizards in Afrit appear to be a handful controlled by the merchanters. So now, Lerial and his Lancers have to find a way to counter as many as a half-score, if not more, wizards, because Atroyan was too weak to control his own merchanters. If Lerial fails, Afrit will be weakened, perhaps enough to fall, and then, sooner or later, Cigoerne. To top it all off, someone among the merchanters, or perhaps more than one, is a traitor and has created explosions designed to leave Afrit leaderless and crippled. Lerial also can’t help but wonder just what the traitor had used. Cammabark is certainly the most likely possibility, although there are other explosive powders, but none of the others are as easy to obtain … and thus, cammabark is the hardest to trace.

As Lerial and his forces approach South Post, across the bay to the east, the sky above the gray eastern shore and the buildings beyond it is beginning to brighten when an Afritan Guard undercaptain, flanked by two rankers and followed by two others, rides toward the Mirror Lancer force.

“Lord Lerial!” calls out the undercaptain. “We’re here to escort you.”

Lerial motions for the undercaptain to join him on the left. Kusyl rides on his right.

“Subcommander Drusyn has his command post in a warehouse on the shore road a half kay west of the Heldyan perimeter. He’d like to meet with you there, ser.”

“We can do that,” Lerial acknowledges. “Tell me what you know about their forces.”

“It’s hard to tell, ser. They’ve been using the stones of the old fort to build walls. If we try to get close, they throw that chaos-fire at us. They must have five battalions there.”

“How many mounted?”

“Not many. Two or three companies at the most, and they arrived late yesterday after the Heldyans turned some of their flatboats into a pier of sorts.”

That makes sense. “Did they try to land more men during the night?”

“Not that we could see.”

“Have you lost many men?”

“Not too many, ser. The subcommander’s had us stay behind walls and houses. If they leave the open places, we can cut them down, but we can’t attack much because of their chaos-bolts.”

Although Lerial asks more questions, he doesn’t learn much more than there is a temporary stalemate of sorts before they rein up outside an oblong three-story stone warehouse and factorage, with a simple name on the sign over the narrow entrance-Whyppel. The upper windows are closed with salt-bleached gray shutters. Across the shore road from the warehouse and factorage is a stone pier. Unsurprisingly, there are no boats or vessels tied there.

Lerial dismounts and turns to Kusyl. “Have the men stand down, but ready to mount when I return.”

“Yes, ser.”

Then Lerial, shields ready, walks into the factorage, where he sees Drusyn standing over a counter on which maps are spread.

The subcommander straightens. “Good to see you, Overcaptain. Especially with what’s facing us.”

Lerial halts and looks at the maps for a moment, then asks, “Have they landed more men since last evening?”

“One flatboat’s worth … for now. They’ll tow more boats upstream. Then it will start all over again.”

“How successful have you been in trying to burn their temporary pier?”

Drusyn shakes his head. “We’ve tried fire arrows, but they have men wetting it down all the time. I’ve posted archers to the south along the river. They’ve had some success in targeting flatboats with armsmen, but the last few flatboats before dark yesterday came with shields. They can’t have that many, though. So once they offload, they push back into the current and angle for the east shore. They’ve got a galley out there, and they tow the empty boat to the shore. Whether they just use a wagon to take the shields back to the next boat or tow that boat back upstream I couldn’t say.”

“It sounds like your archers are slowing their reinforcements.”

“Slowing, but that won’t help if we can’t attack and wipe out a good portion of the men they’ve already landed.”

“Before they land more.”

The subcommander nods.

“Do you know how many chaos-wizards they have?”

“More than one. Might be three. I don’t think it’s as many as four.”

Lerial asks more questions, letting Drusyn reply, until he has a better idea of where the Heldyans are and how Drusyn’s forces are deployed. Finally, he steps back from the counter.

“What do you plan?” asks the subcommander.

“To see what we can do to remove the chaos-wizards and allow your men to attack without that distraction. How?” Lerial shrugs. “That will depend on them.”

“What do you need from us?”

“Just follow up and attack if we’re successful in dealing with the wizards. We don’t have enough rankers to be effective in a hand-to-hand situation where we can’t charge.” This isn’t quite true, but the last thing Lerial wants to do is to lose large numbers of rankers in hand-to-hand fighting, especially in Afrit.

“I can see that. I’ve already informed all the officers not to be surprised if you and the Mirror Lancers arrived at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Might I ask…”

“Why we’re here?” Lerial offers a wry smile. “We’d rather fight Heldya alongside Afrit now than fight Heldya alone several years from now.”

Drusyn stiffens, almost as if Lerial has offered an insult. Then he swallows.

Before the subcommander can reply, possibly with words he and Lerial both might regret later, Lerial adds, “It would be the same if you were aiding us in repulsing an attack on Cigoerne. Right now, Duke Khesyn has more armsmen than both Cigoerne and Afrit combined. We need to work together.”

“I can see that,” manages Drusyn, if stiffly.

“And you’re hampered because you don’t have many chaos-mages.” Except those employed by traitorous merchanters. “I can usually handle a few of them … and that, hopefully, will allow your men to do what mine cannot.”

Drusyn nods. “I had not thought in that fashion.”

“We will never have the number of armsmen that Afrit or Heldya has,” Lerial adds. He hopes he has mollified the subcommander at least to some degree. You should have been more careful with your words. “And we had best do what we can before there are even more Heldyans occupying South Point.”

“I wish you well.”

“Thank you.” Lerial offers as warm a smile as he can before turning and leaving the warehouse. Don’t any of them, besides Rhamuel, see how weakened the merchanters have made Afrit?

Once outside the warehouse, Lerial gathers his officers and Fheldar, briefing them on the general positions of the Heldyans. When he finishes, he adds, “In effect, we have to play the target to flush out the chaos-mages.” And you hope you’re able to deal with them.

“Ser…” ventures Strauxyn.

“You’re wondering why we’re doing this?” Lerial shakes his head. “There’s the small matter of something like seventy-five Heldyan companies. If we can help Afrit destroy them, then we won’t be fighting off a hundred companies outside of Cigoerne in five years … all by ourselves. And it certainly won’t hurt to have the arms-commander’s gratitude, since he is apparently the duke’s sole heir.” Lerial grins sardonically and turns to Kusyl. “And yes, it stinks worse than anything we’ve been stuck with yet.” So far. For Lerial has doubts that they have seen anything close to the worst of the mess that Afrit has become. “We need to head out. I’d like to see what we’re facing before the Heldyans land even more men. We’ll lead with Eighth Company. Kusyl, you and Twenty-third Company bring up the rear. Keep an eye out. For all we know there might be Heldyans in position to attack from behind.”

“Yes, ser.”

Lerial waits until the companies are in riding order, three abreast, rather than in double files, and then gives the command. “Companies! Forward!”

As they ride toward South Point, less than a kay away, Lerial extends his order-chaos senses, focusing on trying to locate concentrations of chaos or more “orderly” points. He finds two clear swirls of chaos and one muted diffuse area of chaos, the kind of diffusion that suggests a chaos-shield and a more talented chaos-mage. There are no obvious signs of an ordermage. The two points of chaos are, from what he can tell, about a hundred yards back of the rough stone barricades thrown up by the Heldyans and about a hundred yards apart, barricades now visible less than five hundred yards ahead in the middle of the wide curve that the shore road takes around the point to where it parallels the Swarth River and becomes the river road.

Looking down one of the angled streets, little more than two hundred yards ahead, and probably only the same distance from the Heldyan barricades, Lerial sees horses tethered in a warehouse loading yard, with several Afritan Guards watching them, yet he does not see any Afritan troops along the shore road ahead. That suggests the chaos-wizards have already been lobbing chaos-bolts … or that the Afritan company officers are being cautious, based on what had happened on fourday.

At the next corner, out of view of anyone on the point, stands an Afritan captain, who gestures, motioning for the lancers to move to the side of the road.

“To the right at the corner!” Lerial orders.

Once the companies are clear of the shore road, Lerial rides back to the captain. “I take it that they have mages throwing firebolts?”

“Yes, ser. Every time we’ve tried to advance, they’ve sent chaos-fire against us.”

Then this might might be the best place to begin. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”

“Not exactly, ser, but you see that low spot in the stones, right above that big crack in the long block?”

It takes Lerial a moment to locate the cracked block. “The one with the edge of the old fort above it?”

“Yes, ser. The chaos-bolts seem to come from behind there.”

Lerial concentrates again, nodding as he locates the well of chaos behind the line of stone. He continues to study the rough stone barricade until he locates an area where the stones are lower, seemingly low enough for a mount to clear easily. There is a slight depression behind the stones, but not one that is particularly deep or wide. “We’ll see what we can do. If we do manage to put a stop to the chaos-bolts and break their line, I trust you’ll be able to take advantage of that.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Good.” Lerial turns the gelding and rides back to the head of the Mirror Lancer column, where he again gathers his officers and begins to explain. “What we have to do is breach the Heldyan defenses and remove at least some of the chaos-wizards. That means we’ll be a target, but unless we look like we’re making a serious attack, the wizards won’t reveal themselves. We’ll take the back lanes until we get as close as we can. For the first attack, I’ll lead Eighth Company. Eleventh and Twenty-third Company will stand ready to follow up, or to relieve Eighth Company, as necessary. After that, we’ll see.” If there is an “after that.”

The three nod. Not a one looks particularly pleased.

Lerial can’t blame them. He isn’t pleased himself. “Same as before-Eighth Company in the fore, then Eleventh Company.”

Lerial leads Eighth Company along the narrow lane. His order-senses indicate that, some hundred yards ahead, it will intersect a slightly wider street that in turn angles back to the shore or river road. Where it does, they will have gotten as close as they can to their point of attack without being exposed to chaos-fire. Even so, the low point on the stone barricade is still some fifty yards from where they will leave the side street to cross the shore road and attack. Lerial’s plan is based on a swift attack that will keep the Heldyan wizards from immediately coordinating their response so that he can deal with the wizards separately.

Once they reach the end of the side street nearest their target, Lerial signals a halt, orders a re-formation to a five-man front, and again uses his order-senses to study the Heldyan positions. Nothing has changed-except that the sun is low above the ruined buildings of the river fort. There is a slight haze above the river so that the low light is not blinding, but it is likely to be distracting. On the other hand, if Lerial waits, more shielded flatboats are likely to land at the temporary Heldyan pier … and possibly more wizards.

Lerial concentrates on the nearest chaos-focus, then gestures to Fheldar. “Eighth Company! Forward!”

Clearly, Lerial’s attack takes the Heldyans by surprise, because there is no reaction until the leading lancers are within twenty yards of the stone barricade. Then a few scattered arrows fly in Lerial’s direction, but his personal shields deflect them.

Whhssst!

An arrow of chaos sizzles directly toward the leading five riders, moving so quickly that Lerial, much as he is expecting chaos from somewhere, barely can muster a twin five-line pattern deflection toward the Heldyan armsmen behind the stone barricade. His forced reaction results in an off-center line of deflected fire that only strikes perhaps half of the line, the rest slamming into the stones themselves.

A second chaos-bolt follows swiftly, but is not quite so powerful, and Lerial manages to redirect the fire across the defenders directly before the Mirror Lancers.

The first lancers are within a few yards of the stone barricade when Lerial can sense mounting chaos, not just from the wizard who has twice loosed chaos, but also from the other unshielded wizard. Lerial immediately begins creating a triple ten-line return pattern.

Two chaos-bolts merge and flare toward Lerial, one of the most powerful bolts he’s felt since he has arrived in Afrit, but the thirty lines of patterned order twist the chaos back at the nearer chaos-wizard. A pillar of reddish white geysers skyward, and silver mists flow over Lerial, evidence of the deaths of the wizard’s guards and the wizard.

Lerial is staggered, and unsettled from that reaction, when another chaos-blast, far weaker, arches toward him. Instinctively, he order-parries it and returns it.

A smaller wave of chaos rises.

Lerial reins up, not wanting to charge across another fifty yards or so of open ground to reach what was likely the inner wall around the old fort, once likely more than two yards high, but now more like a yard and a half or a yard and a cubit high in most places. Most of the Heldyans who survived the redirected chaos and the Mirror Lancer charge are either behind that higher wall or scrambling back to reach it.

The third chaos-wizard has vanished-at least from Lerial’s order-senses. Because you’re getting tired? Or does he have a different kind of shield. You can’t have stunned or killed him. He wasn’t even near the others.

He looks back across the shore road, where he sees a score or more of the Afritan Guards moving out-far too slowly-and heading toward the now-undefended stone barricade. Then, belatedly, he turns and surveys the river. He swallows as he sees several more flatboats, separated by close to thirty yards, and headed toward the temporary pier. All three flatboats have shield walls on the shoreward side.

What can you do?

Without drawing on a white wizard’s chaos, he can’t use chaos against the men on the boats, and without knowing where the last chaos-mage is, he can’t use order-chaos separation effectively because, unless he uses it near the mage, the mage’s shields are likely strong enough to withstand the destruction. Unless you push matters, and then you’ll end up destroying the Heldyans, the mage, your own men, and a chunk of Swartheld … and yourself … and the mage might still survive. And he can’t do much more with order-diversion because he is getting too tired to focus accurately.

Even in those brief moments of thought, he sees yet another flatboat, shielded on the shoreward side, moving in behind the first three, all angling toward the makeshift pier on the point.

At that moment, he wants to slam his palm into his forehead. The frigging pier, of course! While he knows he is stretching his reach and his abilities, the last thing he wants is to allow even more Heldyans to land, or land easily, particularly any more wizards or mages.

As carefully as he can, despite his blurring vision and aching head, he extends his senses to the middle of the covered flatboats that serve as the makeshift pier, then begins just a small order-chaos separation of the planks in the bottom of one of the flatboats … as well as a tiny order-chaos separation in the leading flatboat.

Chaos and steam erupt from the middle of the pier, then race in both directions, with flame and more steam. Squinting to try to make out whether the destruction he has wreaked has been adequate to accomplish his goal, Lerial finds himself even more light-headed … and weaving back and forth in the saddle.

“Ser?”

Fheldar’s voice seems all too far away, so far that Lerial can barely hear him.

“Send a messenger to the subcommander … that we’ve destroyed the pier and a flatboat … that … will make … landing reinforcements … more difficult.” As he speaks, Lerial is aware that each word requires more effort. “Archers … need … to target men wading … ashore…”

Why so hard to speak…?

And then there is just blackness …