L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

She kept trying to reinforce those order-barriers while, all around her, a sort of pressure built, not order, but not exactly chaos, either. She felt as though she were being pressed into the rock, even while water poured down on her.

Crack! Crack! Crack!..

Scores of miniature lightning flashes-or slender reedlike stalks of order and chaos-flared across the higher rocky hump to the south of the waterproof-covered penetrators. The bitter smell of ozone-something she hadn’t expected to smell again after she’d left the Winterlance -filled the air around her. At the same time, her ears reverberated. When the reverberations finally died away, and the rain subsided to something more like a shower, there was a deep silence-except that in the distance, she could hear the faintest roll of thunder. She glanced up and to the southwest. Another lightning bolt flared against a ridgeline of a peak perhaps three kays away, but the sound she heard was so faint that the lightning strike should have been more like ten kays away.

Soaked as she was, she needed to check the penetrators, especially the fuses, to make sure that the wind hadn’t ripped them out of their oiled leather. So she extended her senses again-or tried to-except an unseen hammer slammed into her skull so hard that she staggered…and almost fell. For a moment, she just stood on the wet rock, water dripping off her, trying to gather herself together.

She’d seen Nylan collapse after using his skill with order too much, but that had been to destroy thousands. All she’d done was to divert a lightning bolt some twenty or thirty yards.

All? And just how much power is in one of those? She winced. She hadn’t thought of it in quite that way.

After a moment, she edged toward the waterproof-covered weapons. They looked untouched, and there were no signs that the lightning had struck close. She certainly hadn’t seen or felt it, but she could have missed a strike amid that last set of blasts. She paused. If any had been struck, shouldn’t it have exploded? Or could the powder be slow-cooking?

She wished she could use her senses to check the penetrators, but even the thought of using them at the moment brought on a throbbing in her skull. Finally, she hurried toward the still-mostly-covered weapons. They were cool to the touch, and no water, or anything else, had gotten to the oilskin-covered and rolled fuse cables. After repositioning the waterproofs, she stepped back and glanced up. The northern sky was almost clear-a crystalline greenish blue, and the storms were already well to the southwest.

As she turned and walked carefully back over dampened, red sandy soil and rain-slicked red rock, she couldn’t help but think about Ryba. After ten years of being Ryba’s arms-commander, Saryn had come to assume, if tacitly, that Ryba’s visions were true. What if they were not? And even if they were-this time-would what she saw always come to pass? Was that why Ryba kept most of them to herself? Somehow, Saryn doubted that Ryba had foreseen everything that had happened with Nylan.

She kept walking through the scattered droplets that were tapering off to nothing, making her way off the top of the mesa and down toward the upper camp. As she neared the twisted trees, she could see that a Westwind guard waited, her mount breathing heavily from the ride up the hills and over the shoulder.

Saryn waved and hurried toward the woman.

As Saryn drew closer, the guard said something, but Saryn couldn’t hear the words. She stopped and looked closely at the guard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.”

“A message from the Marshal, ser.”

Saryn only heard some of the words, but by watching, she got the meaning-or close enough, since the guard then extended a folded sheet of paper.

“Thank you.” Saryn took the small square of paper and read Ryba’s precise script.

Commander-

Arthanos will reach the pass at the end of the valley no later than noon tomorrow. So far, he has lost almost two companies of cavalry.

Under the words was Ryba’s seal.

Saryn could only hope that she didn’t have to deal with another thunderstorm, especially at the time when the Gallosians finally reached the valley.

Saryn woke just after first light, cold, stiff, and sore. Her head still throbbed, if faintly, and her uniform was damp. The sky was as much gray as green-blue. Thankfully, Klarisa had detailed one of the guards to bring up the coals into a small fire. As she stood close to the flames, Saryn silently thanked the squad leader for the warmth. Three others from fourth squad stood around the fire, none close to the arms-commander.

Although it had not frosted, Saryn suspected that it had been almost that cold. The brisk wind out of the west made the air seem even more chill, though summer was almost upon the Roof of the World. But then, full summer wasn’t all that warm on a mesa top in the heights of the Westhorns. With a west wind, Saryn reflected, they were less likely to get a thunderstorm, but the valley below would be warm by afternoon, possibly almost hot-at least by angel standards, cold as it was before sunrise.

“Ser,” Hoilya ventured, “how long will it be before the Gallosians reach us?”

“I’d guess today. It might be as late as tomorrow.”

“Just as soon they get here,” murmured one of the others. “Colder up here than doing picket duty at the stables…”

Not as cold as it will be if we don’t get more quarters built and get people out of the stables. With that thought, Saryn turned from the fire to look down-slope at a rider she had just sensed, a guard pushing her mount as much as possible. That urgency suggested the guard bore news of Arthanos. Saryn waited, since the rider could cover the remaining distance far faster than could Saryn.

“…wager she’s going to tell us the Gallosian bastards are on the way…”

Saryn wouldn’t have bet against the guard’s aside.

When the rider finally neared, Saryn stepped away from the fire and walked several yards to meet her. “Greetings.”

“Ser, the Marshal sent me. The Gallosians were less than ten kays from the east end of the valley when they made camp last night. They should reach the valley by late morning or midday. The Marshal requests that you be ready to act on her command by midmorning.”

“Thank you. Once you’ve rested a moment, you can leave your mount and take one of our spares. You can tell the Marshal we will be ready for her command.”

Saryn turned to call for Klarisa, but the squad leader was already hurrying toward Saryn.

“We’re to expect the Gallosians by midmorning. If you’d show the messenger which spare mount she can take to return to the Marshal, and then muster your squad up at the weapons. We need to lower the penetrators and set the fuses.”

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn turned and ran, if carefully, up toward the top of the mesa, then toward the northern edge, stopping when she could see the east end of the valley. The sun was beginning to clear the peaks to the east, and she had to squint to scan the thin line of brown that was the road, but there were no riders in sight, and she didn’t see dust farther to the east. The thunderstorm of the afternoon before hadn’t lasted that long, only enough to dampen the top of the ground, and the Gallosian army would raise some dust.

She doubted that the Gallosians were that close, since most commanders wouldn’t begin a day’s march through mountains in total darkness, and Arthanos would have had to start in darkness to reach the valley by sunrise. Even so, she and fourth squad couldn’t waste time.

Why can’t anything be easy? She shook her head. If they’d already placed the weapons the day before, the storm would have soaked them and the fuses. By avoiding that problem, they faced the difficulty of having to lower and position the penetrators on short notice. That didn’t take into account the various ailments she had from having to protect the weapons from lightning. At least all the ropes and harnesses were ready to go. She took a last look at the eastern end of the valley, still in shadow, then hurried to the weapons cache. The last members of the squad slipped into the formation before the still-covered penetrators as she neared.