L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

He urged the gelding forward beside the courier's mount and rode slowly westward toward where the center of the battle must have been. There was no sign of any rebels, except those lying on the ground, mostly dead or dying, around which the gelding picked his way. The light breeze carried the iron-copper odor of blood everywhere. Even swallowing the last drops from his water bottle did not remove the taste from his mouth.

What had happened? He glanced at the courier, who did not quite meet his eyes. "We were isolated. All of a sudden, the rebels were scrambling to get away."

"You didn't see, ser?"

"No. Third Company was fighting off a bunch of rebel attacks. I didn't have time to look anywhere."

"The captain said…" The courier did not finish his statement.

"Is he all right? I didn't see him. Captain Drakeyt, I mean."

"He had a few gashes, ser. He said he'd be fine."

"What happened?"

"It was all planned. When all the rebels were pushing us back toward the town, Marshal Bynra and First Army hit them from behind. He came around on that old back road. We had the rebels trapped on all sides. Not all that many escaped."

Rahl glanced across the grassland battlefield, seeing as if for the first time all the downed men and mounts, and knowing, as order-depleted as he was, that he was sensing but a fraction of the devastation. Yet it threatened to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes for a moment, but that didn't help.

As he followed the courier, another question crossed Rahl's mind. Why had he seen no chaos-bolts, and no evidence of chaos use by the rebels? The only magery he had seen or sensed had been that used by Taryl and himself.

"There's the overcommander, ser," offered the courier. "If you'd excuse me… there are some dispatches."

"You're excused… and thank you."

The courier nodded and eased his mount away, as if in relief.

What had Rahl done? Had he failed that badly? Did everyone know it? He looked up.

Taryl was still a good fifty cubits from Rahl, but he said something to the senior officers beside him, then rode away from them, slowly making his way toward Rahl, finally reining up.

Rahl did so as well. "You requested my presence, ser?"

"I'm glad to see that you came through this." A faintly ironic smile touched Taryl's lips.

Rahl could see the blackness under the older mage's eyes, eyes that were so bloodshot that they looked pink. "So am I, ser. Things were… somewhat in doubt where we were for some time."

"That was true for all of Second Army. You and Third Company did remarkably well. We'll discuss things tomorrow, after you've had some rest. Convey my appreciation to Captain Drakeyt. You have mine as well." Each of Taryl's words was slow and almost deliberate.

"Yes, ser. I will. Thank you." Rahl realized that Taryl was as exhausted as he was, if not more so.

"Get some rest, Rahl."

"Yes, ser. Perhaps… you should too, ser, as you can."

Taryl nodded, then turned his mount back toward the senior officers.

Rahl began to ride back toward Third Company, Taryl's words still going slowly through his mind. Remarkably well? They'd bottled up an entire battalion and destroyed most of it, and all Taryl had to say was that they'd done remarkably well? Hard as it was for him even to keep his eyes open, Rahl had the feeling that, again, he had not acted as he should have-or perhaps that he had acted as Taryl expected, and that had disappointed the older mage.

Rahl turned and rode back to where he thought Third Company had been, looking one way and another before he finally made out Drakeyt, watching as troopers from Third Company recovered weapons and gear and checked for wounded amid the fallen and the dead.

The captain glanced up as Rahl reined the gelding to a halt.

"The overcommander summoned me," Rahl began. "He asked me to convey his thanks and appreciation for all that you and Third Company did. He said you did remarkably well."

"His thanks and appreciation… We lost another twenty-five men," Drakeyt said slowly. "Seven of them were in first squad. One of them was Roryt. He was a fine squad leader."

"I'm sorry. I did… what I could." What else could Rahl say? He'd used all the order-skills he'd had long before the battle was over, and they'd helped, but they hadn't been enough.

"What you could?" Drakeyt laughed, a sound that was cold and bitter.

Rahl wanted to shrink away.

"You don't know, do you, Majer?"

"Know what?" Rahl could feel the flatness in his voice.

"You and first squad-mostly you-broke a battalion. I sent a trooper out to count. Around where you were fighting, there were fifty men down. Fifty. Some are still alive. None of them will ever fight again. You can see it in their eyes. At the end, rebels were turning and riding back into the swamp."

"Why?" Rahl didn't understand. He just knew he was almost ready to fall out of the saddle, and everything hurt. He'd been lucky because the rebels hadn't been able to attack all at once. He'd just picked them off in ones and twos while they were trying to recover from swimming through the swamp.

"Majer…" Drakeyt's voice softened. "You need some rest and some food. You've done enough."

"Third Company did it," Rahl said. "I didn't know what was going on or who was coming from where. I just tried to disable as many rebels as I could." Fifty? That didn't seem possible. Not with a truncheon, even the one Khelra had made. "I just helped the squad as well as I could." It probably hadn't been enough, but the battle had told him one thing-he didn't have enough experience.

"Sylarn!" Drakeyt called out. "The majer's about to fall out of his saddle. He could use an escort to the bivouac area-we've got that end cottage."

"Yes, ser." The trooper who rode up was thin and wiry, and blood was splashed across his lower sleeves.

Rahl looked down. There was blood everywhere on him.

"Ser… this way."

Rahl turned the gelding.

Gray light seeped under Rahl's eyelids. That was the way it felt. He was lying on his back, and everything hurt. His head still ached, and there were flashes across his eyes, but they only stung rather than knifed into his skull. Yet he had the feeling that, if he opened his eyes and moved, all those aches and pains would get much worse.

At the same time, he did need to get up-for all too many reasons.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The pain flashes across his eyes intensified, but not by as much as he feared. He was lying near the stone wall, his bedroll on a pallet. The morning light told him that he had slept for most of the afternoon after the battle and through the night. No wonder he was sore.

Rahl didn't remember laying out his bedroll on the floor of the small cot. In fact, he didn't remember much at all after turning to follow the trooper away from the carnage of the battle.

There were voices outside, low voices, and he began to listen.

"… you want to wake him?"

"… commander told the captain, and he told you…"

"… doesn't matter… scared the living sowshit outa me, and I knew he was on our side… closest thing I ever saw to a black demon, closest I ever want to see…"

"Squad leader said he killed more 'n sixty…"

"Rebs were throwing themselves into the swamp… couple of them won't ever think right again…"

Rahl swallowed. He'd done that? He couldn't have done that. He didn't even know how to do something like that. He started to shake his head, and a lance of pain slammed from his eyes through the back of his skull. His eyes watered so much that he could not see for several moments. Then, ever so slowly, he rolled onto his side. After a long pause, he levered himself up and staggered to a stool, next to a table. On the table was a clay mug, and it had ale in it. Beside it was a small oval loaf of bread.