L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

“ … gone …”

“ … course … he’s a mage … do our part …”

Once he was in place behind the hedgerow, mostly hidden, Kharl released the sight shield. If he couldn’t see the road, whoever was on the road was unlikely to see him, and it was unlikely the holders or tenants in the buildings beyond the trees would see him against the back of the hedgerow.

Kharl knelt behind the twisted mass of branches and vines that had barely begun to show green, using his order-senses to watch what happened on the road. Within moments, Charsal and his squad trotted back southward past the spot where Kharl waited behind the hedgerow. Fromthe north came the growing sound of hoofs, and a stronger sense of the chaos whiteness.

As he stood next to the foliage that separated him from the road, Kharl concentrated on creating not so much an image, but a projection of order, set close to the now-riderless mount that Charsal led, hoping that the white wizard who rode with the rebels would focus on that order.

The pursuing lancers did not slow as they neared Kharl’s hiding place-a good sign. He waited until the lancers were within five rods of him before he struggled to create a solid barrier of air, based on linking the air together with twists of order. The barrier ran from the road surface to more than head height of a mounted man.

“We’re gaining …”

A series of dull thuds , followed by screaming from downed horses and yells as riders tried to rein up and avoid becoming entangled in the mass of fallen mounts and unhorsed men. At least two of the rebel armsmen were dead. Kharl had felt the emptiness, the wash of red-tinged death. Several others were injured, perhaps severely.

Kharl was trembling when he released the barrier. He took a deep breath and began to move northward at a quick walk. He did not let go of the order projection moving with Charsal until he was a good thirty rods north of the milling confusion. As he moved away from the pileup of men and mounts, he kept checking with both eyes and senses to see if anyone had chanced to look behind the hedgerow, but no one did.

“After them …!”

The riders who had not suffered-or perhaps the second squad-resumed the pursuit of Charsal.

Kharl kept walking, hurriedly, through the damp grass of the meadow. Already, the lower parts of his trousers were wet. The ill-tended meadow extended down a slight slope for almost a kay, until it reached a small stream, so small that it was a mere rivulet running across a muddy depression. Just short of the stream, which Kharl could sense, but not see, the hedgerow stopped, or rather turned westward at a right angle. So thick was the vegetation that the mage had to walk almost ten rods westward before he came to a gate in the hedgerow.

The iron latch was broken, and the gate had been secured with a length of twine. Kharl used his belt knife to cut it, but quickly retied the twine once he was through.

His legs were wobbly.

He glanced around, then leaned against the stone pillar that held the gate hinges and took the water bottle out from inside his jacket. After a long swallow, he munched on some dried apple slices and took a bite of the hard yellow cheese. He finished with a biscuit that was mostly fragments and crumbs, and another swallow of water.

Ahead, near the hilltop almost a kay away, he could make out a large orchard with trees set precisely in rows-the orchard on the southern border of Lord Lahoryn’s lands, he thought. If so, the rebel forces were less than a kay north from where he stood.

Before setting out northward, Kharl scanned the area nearby once more, taking in the path that led through the muddy depression holding the tiny stream, the stone-walled meadow on the far side, one wall of which bordered the road-without a hedgerow. The hedgerow through which he had just passed continued westward, then turned north once more on the far side of the meadow. In order not stand out to any observer, Kharl would have to walk westward, then follow the hedgerow uphill and north toward the orchard-and the rebel forces beyond. He took another swallow of water, corked the water bottle, and slipped it back inside the riding jacket. He turned westward, following the hedgerow.

When he reached the spot where the hedgerow started northward once more, he crossed the middle strip that held the stream. He had only covered ten or fifteen rods, walking beside the twisted and intertwined branches and through the damp grass, before his trousers below the knee were thoroughly soaked, and water oozed down into his boots. He was also sweating under the riding jacket from his exertions and the damp spring air.

He kept close to the hedgerow as he moved uphill. He was still a quarter of a kay from the stone wall between the meadow and the orchard when he began to sense that there were sentries set at intervals along the wall. Once more he drew upon his skills and let the light flow around him so that the sentries could not see him. He had to move more slowly because he was relying on his order-senses, rather than his sight.

Kharl moved even more carefully when he neared the wall. While the sentry a hundred cubits to the east could not see him, the man could certainly hear if the mage knocked off a stone or made any other significant noise. Kharl still felt strange climbing over the low stone wall so close to a sentry.

Once over the wall he made his way from tree to tree, always headednorthward. Outside of the sentries, no other armsmen were in the orchard. At the north end of the orchard, on the west end, there was a small section of a hedgerow. There, Kharl found a spot that was sheltered from casual view and released the sight shield. While he did not feel as weak as he had after the encounter with the rebel lancers and the white wizard, he could sense that he needed to rest. He drank some more from the water bottle and finished the cheese and dried apples-and another biscuit that was also mostly pieces and crumbs.

After he had refreshed himself, he peered northward through the screen of branches and winter-gray leaves. A handful of tents rose from the highest point in the meadow to the northwest of the hedgerow, and around them were mounts on tie-lines and armsmen in groups, seemingly waiting. Beyond the meadow were the smoldering ruins of what had been Lord Lahoryn’s large country house.

Kharl had to wonder why they had burned it, rather than just taking it. Or was the rebels’ plan to make an example of Lord Ghrant’s supporters? It didn’t make much sense to him.

Beyond the hedgerow was more of the damp meadow grass, and he would have to cross a good half kay of open ground. He just hoped there were no dogs around because they would sniff him out, even if they couldn’t see him.

He took a long and deep breath, then drew the sight shield around himself and stepped away from the hedgerow.

Step by step, he made his slow way toward the tents. After less than ten rods he had to circle more to the east to avoid a line of mounts and the lancers tending them. He listened as well as he could as he slipped past.

“ … not that hard …”

“ … just an old man and his people …”

“ … would have liked to have gotten that girl before …”

“ … she’s spoils for the lords …”

By the time Kharl had circled around more lancers and mounts, reoriented himself, and headed back toward the low crest in the middle of the meadow, he felt soaked inside and out, from the high damp grass, from the damp mist that was becoming more like a fine rain, and from his own sweat. With each step, his feet sank into the soft ground, and he could feel the chill dampness inside his boots.

From what his order-senses told him, there were but five tents, the two in the center being the largest. He eased between two of the smaller tents,both empty, and toward the nearer of the larger pair. There, he paused near the rear canvas wall. There was no need for him to enter the tents, but the first larger tent was vacant as well.