L. Modesitt - Ordermaster

Once again, Demyst rode alongside Kharl. The square-faced captain looked morosely ahead, into the lighter gray sky to the east. “This circles north of the main road, comes out where the stream joins the Fahsa. That’s a bit west of Ghalmat. Should be there well before the rebels.” Demyst paused. “Should be. No telling until then, though.”

“The Hamorians are still somewhere to the east of Ghalmat,” noted Kharl. “They’re not moving that fast.” He could sense the two focal points of chaos, even though they were several kays to the south and east. Both were far stronger than the white wizards he had faced before, although the lesser chaos-focus was not that much stronger than the last white wizard.But that was the lesser of the two, and he had no idea if the two might even be hiding part of their power, the way the last white wizard had, and as Kharl was attempting.

Kharl could also sense Lyras and the comparatively faint but solid black order around the older mage. Lyras was stronger than he claimed, Kharl was convinced, but still nowhere near as powerful as he needed to be-not if the older mage had to hold off the oncoming white wizards if Kharl failed. Then, Kharl himself wasn’t exactly a youth, either, he reflected.

“What about Lord Fergyn?” asked Demyst.

“I can′t tell. He doesn’t have a white wizard with him.”

“You think this’ll be as bad as the last time, ser?” asked the undercaptain.

“No,” Kharl replied. “If we’re fortunate, it will only be about twice as bad.” As soon as he’d spoken, even before the undercaptain shook his head, Kharl wished he’d been less truthful and more tactful. But why did people ask such stupid questions, then get upset when they got a truthful reply?

Truth, again. Always seemingly what people claimed they wanted, but only when it confirmed what they wished to believe. “It might not be that bad,” Kharl said quickly, “but they do have two powerful white wizards and a company of heavy Hamorian horse.” Demyst already knew that, but it wouldn′t hurt to repeat it.

“What did Lord Ghrant do to Hamor, that they’d send such against us?”

“He did nothing. Hamor wants to rule the world. The emperor thinks that, if he can unseat Lord Ghrant, he can rule through Lord Fergyn. Even if we win, it will take years to rebuild Austra, and Lord Ghrant will be in no position to move against Hamor in trade or other matters.”

“Some folks, they never seem to have enough.”

“Usually, they’re already the ones who have more than most,” Kharl replied, thinking of Egen and Lord West.

“Saw that growing up. Biggest orchards belonged to old Khosen, but he was always trying something to get more.”

“It’s like that.” Kharl nodded, trying still to gather in a sense of the white wizards without actively using or creating excess order.

The road began to angle more to the southeast, and the steep cliffs on the north, to Kharl′s left, gave way first to hillsides of red sand, scrub, and fir, then to lower hills covered by an older forest, mostly of evergreens.

They covered another kay or so before the edge of the sun, tinged white-orange by the mists hanging over both valleys and hills, rose over the old forest to the east of the narrow road. Ahead of them the narrow way curved even more southward, following the stream as it angled southeast toward a low gap between the hills to the north and east and the ridge-line to the south. Beyond the gap, according to the maps, was where the stream met the River Fahsa, roughly half a kay west of Ghalmat. Hagen had called Ghalmat a hamlet of but a few hundred people that basically served as a center for the berry patches and the orchards that covered the surrounding hills and ridges.

As they neared the gap between the ridge and hills, a lancer rode toward them, then slowed as he approached. Kharl recognized the scout by face, but not by name.

“Undercaptain … ser … there’s no one in the town. Not more’n a few, anyway. The rest were clearing out when I got there. They must have heard about the Hamorians.”

Or Hagen’s force. Or the white wizards, Kharl thought.

“Did you see any other lancers?”

“No, ser. There’s dust on the road to the east, mayhap a kay east of the town. I didn’t see any to the west or south. Wagon tracks in the roads, carts, but not more than a few mounts.”

The undercaptain looked to Kharl. “We’ll be getting there a little before the Hamorians.”

“If we do, we’ll let them pass, and we’ll do what we need to once they’ve headed toward the lord-chancellor.”

Demyst nodded, then looked at the scout. “Fall in.” He’d turned in the saddle. “Herles!”

“Yes, ser?” answered the left-hand rider of the pair of lancers riding immediately behind Kharl and the undercaptain.

“Ride forward and watch the gap ahead. Make sure that no one heads toward us. If they don′t, just wait for us.”

“Yes, ser.” Herles pulled out and past Kharl and Demyst, then eased his mount into a faster pace.

Almost another half glass went by before Kharl reined up just beyond the gap between the ridge to the west and the low hills to the east. Looking south, he studied the gentle slope running down to the river and the narrow cart bridge that arched over the Fahsa. On the far side was the crossroad that linked the north road and the northeast road out of Valmurl. Thewoodlots and orchards stretching to the south seemed to extend to the horizon, yet they were less than five kays north of the dockworks area of the harbor.

Just south of the river, and to the east, he could make out the outlines of the houses and buildings of Ghalmat-and the dust rising on the east side of the hamlet. The dust seemed to match what his order-senses told him about where the white wizards were. “They’re coming into the east side of the town.”

“Yes, ser. Lot of dust, ser.”

After several moments, Kharl pointed to a thicker patch of evergreens on a knoll to the west of the road, no more than twenty rods north of the bridge. “We’ll take cover there, and wait.”

“Take a while to cross the bridge, ser.”

“It’ll take longer for the Hamorians.”

“Ser?”

“If they discover us and come after us, they’ll have trouble getting to us quickly, and it won’t take that long for us to cross going south.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kharl urged the gelding forward, toward the heavily wooded knoll. Again, they would wait; but waiting, Kharl was learning, was often better than rushing into disaster.

A quarter glass went by, then another quarter glass, and the surge of white chaos drew nearer and nearer. At the same time, from gathering in impressions of Lyras, Kharl could sense that Hagen had stopped almost a glass earlier. He hoped that meant that Casolan’s first companies and those remaining forces of Norgen-all under Hagen’s command-had reached the hill to the west of where the northeast road and the river road intersected. There was a low outcropping of sandstone there on the east side of the hillcrest, which might give cover from chaos-fire, and the flanks and front of the hill were steep enough, and so covered by thornberries, that an easy and swift charge was not possible.

As Kharl reflected on those precautions, hoping they were sufficient, the Hamorian outriders appeared. Two posted themselves at the narrow bridge, but made no attempt to cross. The other six rode westward on the Fahsa River road. Before long, the column of lancers appeared.

From what Kharl could tell, the Hamorians had close to two companies of their lancers. Unlike the armsmen of either Austra or Nordla, whose uniforms were shaded more dramatic colors, such as green and black andblue, the Hamorians wore pale tan, with black belts and boots. Their tan caps had black visors as well. They bore sabres and long belt knives, as well as black lances in their stirrup holders.