L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

The rebel troopers following the lancers were trying to swing wide when Drakeyt and the first two squads of Third Company slammed into them from the side.

Rahl found himself using the truncheon more to defend himself from wild attacks from the rebels than in attacking in any way. He'd hoped to use his personal order shields, but he'd expended so much order-effort already that even trying to hold them for more than a few moments sent flashes of pain through his skull. As Taryl had pointed out might happen, all he really had was the truncheon, at least until he recovered, but he did feel that he broke bones, now and again. That wasn't his desire; he just kept trying to keep from getting slashed up as he did his best in pushing the attackers back.

From somewhere came another series of trumpet calls, and within moments, Rahl found himself and the gelding almost alone amid scattered groups of Imperial troopers.

"Third Company! Re-form!" Drakeyt's voice cut through the clamor. "On me!"

Rahl straightened in the saddle, then, seeing there were no rebels nearby, sheathed the truncheon, silently thanking Khelra as he did. He studied the grasslands to the south, hoping to see the rebels withdrawing.

They were not, but rather re-forming into a different series of formations.

Rahl urged the gelding back toward Third Company, where he reined up beside Drakeyt, who was waiting for fourth squad to finish repositioning. While he waited, he extended his order-senses toward the swamp, trying not to wince at the pain-filled flashes of light through his eyes and skull.

Even so, he could sense another force approaching-down the old road through the middle of the bogland. Had the flanking lancer attack been a distraction to keep Third Company from noticing the troopers coming up through the ancient causeway in the middle of the swamp?

"We need to move to that old road," Rahl called to Drakeyt. "There are troopers moving up it quickly, and there are enough that if they get past the swamp, they could flank us on both sides."

"Can you pull that blocking magery again?"

"No. But I've already done something else that will push them into the swamp. They'll be struggling through and coming out in small numbers." If at all. "But there are so many that we can't let them get through and regroup."

"What did do you?"

"The road is ooze-trapped, so that once they get on the narrow part, they can't get out except by drowning in the ooze at each end of the road or struggling through the swamp."

"Good." Drakeyt stood in the stirrups. "Third Company! Left turn on fifth squad! Forward!"

Third Company arrived and reined up in formation opposite the center of the unseen old road, the squads beside each other in a line, with a five-man front on each squad.

"How long?" asked Drakeyt, glancing back westward.

"Not long. Any moment, now." Rahl closed his eyes, hoping that would ease the throbbing in his skull.

Rahl watched as the first troopers caught sight of Third Company and the grasslands and urged their mounts forward. He held his breath for a moment. Then the first mounts pitched forward into the ooze beneath the thin crust of the grass-covered upper part of the ancient road. Others followed, and in moments, a churning mass of a score of mounts and riders was struggling and sinking.

Behind them, the advance slowed.

"They'll go to the sides and through the swamp," Drakeyt predicted.

After several moments, individual riders, then squads began to leave the old concealed causeway and make their way through the marsh and pooled stagnant water.

Rahl swallowed as the ugly snout of a small stun-lizard appeared. The nearest rider and mount toppled sideways. Rahl could sense other creatures as well, although he could not see them, all moving through the waters toward the troopers trapped on the road, as well as those trying to continue the attack.

One rebel squad had figured that swimming their mounts through the clearer water might be safer, and that group was already within a few hundred cubits of solid ground. "Over there!" Rahl pointed to Drakeyt.

"First squad! Take the rebels swimming their mounts on the south side!"

"First squad! Forward!" ordered Roryt.

The troopers took station less than fifty cubits from the edge of the swampy area, waiting for the rebels to break free of the water and treacherous ground. Roryt obviously didn't want to lose men to the swamp, a decision Rahl thought most wise, especially after seeing the stun-lizards.

The first group of three rebels saw the waiting Imperials and tried to angle their way southwest-back toward the rebel forces. None of them made it.

Another pair tried to swim their mounts farther away from first squad, but one rider and his mount vanished, and the survivor and his mount lurched out and were picked off by one of Roryt's troopers.

Even so, Rahl could see scores of riders in the water, far more than the creatures and muck of the swamp would be able to stop.

"We've got heavy infantry breaking our way from the main rebel force," Drakeyt said. "You take first and fifth squads and hold the ones coming out of the swamp. We'll cover your back."

Rahl glanced at the swamp, then toward the rebel forces riding northward from the main body of the insurgents. "You'd better take everyone except first squad."

"I'll accept that recommendation." Drakeyt's voice was dry. "Second, third, fourth, and fifth squads. Wheel to the south! On me!"

Rahl turned the gelding toward the section of the swamp to the north of where the ancient road emerged. Before he had ridden fifty cubits, eight troopers from first squad had joined him.

"We'll get 'em, ser!"

They had their sabres out, and, belatedly, Rahl drew the truncheon. In some fashion, for a moment, it caught and twisted the light, and it almost seemed as though a spear of darkness flashed from it toward the rebel trooper struggling to get his mount clear of the swamp.

The trooper spurred his mount forward, trying to escape Rahl, but a clump of thornvine blocked the rebel's way, and he wheeled his mount back toward Rahl, swinging his sabre wildly. Rahl disarmed him with a single blow, then dropped him out of the saddle with a second stroke.

After that, Rahl just found himself trying to disarm or incapacitate any rebel around. He knew there were other troopers from fifth squad around him, somewhere, but none even seemed to get close enough for him to verify that, and it was all he could do, it seemed, just to hold his own against the seemingly endless number of rebels riding out of the swamp.

Sometime around late midmorning-that was what Rahl thought-another set of trumpet calls echoed from somewhere, and there were even more rebels, coming from everywhere.

Rahl managed to call up a last bit of order and give some infusion to the truncheon as he thrust, parried, cut, and just plain slashed.

Then came yet another trumpet call, this one sounding almost panicky, and in moments, or so it seemed, Rahl was sagging in the saddle, alone. He looked around and found himself less than fifty cubits from the edge of the swamp, but somewhat farther southwest along its edge than where he had attacked the first rebel.

Everywhere there were bodies of troopers-mostly rebel troopers-and some were alive, moaning.

Rahl just sat there in the saddle, his sight blurred with sparks and longer flashes of pain searing through his eyes, and most of his muscles aching and so exhausted he felt like he had a hard time breathing.

"Majer… ser?"

He turned in the saddle. The trooper who had reined up wore the sash of a courier. "Yes?"

"The overcommander requests your presence, ser. If you'd follow me

…"

Rahl could sense almost nothing in terms of order or chaos, but there was a reserve in the trooper's voice. "Oh… of course."