Mage-Guard of Hamor

XXIII

By midmorning on sevenday, Rahl was more than ready to get off the Fyrador. There was little enough to do on the river steamer, besides read the dispatches and keep checking the vessel for any chaos that showed up out of place-which was almost none. He had written several pages of a letter to Deybri, mostly telling her about what he had seen along the river, but he had decided not to finish it or seal it until they had almost arrived in Kysha.

The river had narrowed considerably, so that it was only about two hundred cubits wide, and the river steamer had to follow a narrower channel, marked with yellow-and-maroon buoys. The lands beyond the banks-when he could see over the low hills that bordered the river-were also hilly and mostly covered in browning grasses. On the hillside to the west, half a kay or so ahead was a stand of trees, certainly no more than a half kay in length on the side that fronted the river, and not much more than that in depth.

Rahl didn't recognize the trees, but there was something about them that bothered him. He turned and started forward to find Taryl.

At that moment, a column of water exploded skyward from the water less than fifty cubits from the midships area of the port side of the ship. Three short blasts of the whistle followed, and the ship swung starboard, as if the captain were going to run her aground.

"Cannon!"

Taryl scrambled out of the midships hatch and glanced around.

"It's coming from the trees, I think!" Rahl pointed toward the grove.

Taryl turned. "Can you tell how many men are there?"

Rahl tried to extend his order-senses, but he had trouble reaching that far. Still…

"How many?"

"I can't tell exact numbers, but probably not more than thirty, maybe only a score."

"Good!" Taryl turned and hurried forward.

Another column of water spouted, this time within a handful of cubits of the steamer, but still on the port side.

Three more whistle blasts followed. Rahl could tell that the steamer was heading for the shore. What he couldn't understand was why.

"Shore force! Ready on the bow! Shore force!"

Belatedly, Rahl moved forward. Troopers were forming up on the lower forward deck. He could see two distinct groups-archers and footmen. Taryl had just finished talking to a grizzled captain.

Already the Fyrador was nearing the shore, and from what Rahl could tell, the steamer would ground almost below the trees.

Suddenly, he sensed… something… and threw up full shields.