L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

Rahl forced himself to study the ale and bread with his order-senses. Both were good, and he needed no more encouragement to take a swallow of the ale and break off a corner of the stale bread. It still tasted welcome.

He'd eaten all the bread and drunk most of the ale when a trooper rapped on the side of the door and stepped into the cot. "Ser?"

"I'm awake." Rahl smiled. "I think."

"The overcommander would like to see you, Majer, at your convenience. He's at the first big barn to the west of here."

At his convenience? Either Rahl had acquitted himself far worse than he thought, or Taryl was feeling more generous than he had after the battle. Rahl could only hope that it was the latter. "It will be a few moments. Thank you."

It was probably more than a few moments before he found a bucket of water and cleaned up as well as he could, including sponging off as much of the blood as he could from his uniform, then trying to blot his sleeves and trousers half-dry.

The gelding was tied outside, but had clearly been brushed and saddled for him. He looked around, seeing two troopers-from fifth squad, he thought. "If you two are the ones who took care of my mount, I'd like to thank you. If not, please pass my thanks to whoever did."

"Ah… yes, ser."

"Thank you. Could one of you tell Captain Drakeyt that I've been summoned by the overcommander and that I'll be back as soon as I can?"

"Yes, ser."

"Thank you." Rahl managed not to wince as he swung up into the saddle.

As he rode slowly away from the cot and the two troopers, he couldn't resist using what little order-strength had returned to catch what they were saying.

"… just be glad he's on our side…"

"Where did he come from?"

"Word is that he was a laborer in Luba 'cause he offended some powerful mage-guard who took all his memories. The majer got 'em back, and now he'll tear down every stone in Nubyat to set things right 'cause that mage-guard is one of Golyat's mages…"

"Might, too, if he keeps on like yesterday…"

Even as he smiled at the fanciful tale, Rahl wanted to yell out in protest that it wasn't true, not even in poetic terms. Yet he feared that disavowing it would only result in the troopers' coming up with something even more fantastic.

There were more than a few mounts tied around the large barn, as well as most of the army's supply wagons, or so it seemed. Rahl finally ended up tying the gelding to a fence post nearby. Then he walked into the barn. Rows and rows of injured men lay on pallets.

Rahl almost staggered at the amount of collective wound chaos. He glanced around. He ought to do something, but there were so many wounded… so many.

Finally, he moved toward a group of lancers who seemed to have thrust injuries of some sorts. None were looking his way, not until he appeared.

Rahl let his senses range over the first man, who had taken a lance through a shoulder, or so it seemed. There was a pocket of wound chaos deep inside, but it was not large. "Hold still, trooper."

The trooper looked up, his eyes widening.

Rahl let what order he could neutralize the wound chaos, then moved to the next man. His entire insides were reddish white. Rahl managed to keep his face pleasant, but there was no way he could do anything. The injuries and chaos were even worse than those of the sailor whose lungs had been steam-burned in Nylan. All Rahl did was project warmth and comfort. "Take care."

He managed to help, he thought, five men before he began to get extremely light-headed, and he turned away, looking to find Taryl.

"What were you doing there? Do you have-"

As Rahl turned to face the undercaptain, the young officer stepped back. "I'm sorry, ser."

"I was just trying to help some of them," Rahl said. "I was summoned by the overcommander."

"Yes, ser." The undercaptain eased back from Rahl. "He's down there."

"Thank you." Rahl stepped away. Again, he could hear murmurs, but whether they were from the wounded or from some of the officers who had joined the undercaptain, he couldn't tell.

"… one they're calling the black demon…"

"… seems young for a majer…"

"… not when you see his eyes…"

His eyes? Was there something wrong with them? Rahl frowned, but kept walking toward the half-open plank door pointed out by the undercaptain.

Taryl was in a small room Rahl guessed might once have been a tack room. The overcommander was standing over a makeshift plank table on which were spread maps.

"Ser? You said to see you today."

"Greetings, Rahl."

Rahl could see the deep black pits under Taryl's bloodshot eyes. "Begging your pardon, ser, but did you get any rest?"

"Some, not enough. There's never enough time." Taryl coughed, then took a sip from the mug on the side of the plank table. "There are all the wounded, too."

"I know. I did what I could for some of them. When I'm stronger, I'll try more."

"That's commendable, but don't exhaust yourself. You'll need to be at full strength in the eightdays ahead." Taryl shook his head. "I might seem cold, but healing won't do much for dealing with Golyat, and that's where we-and you-have to put most of our efforts."

Rahl understood that. He didn't have to like it.

"In that regard, I wanted to ask you a few questions before you have to fight any more battles. Why do you think so many of the rebel forces were attacking the left side of Second Army?"

Rahl didn't know, and he was still so tired that he knew he wasn't thinking all that well. "I couldn't say, ser, except that they wanted to turn our eastern flank."

"Do you think it was coincidence that Third Company was there?"

"No, ser. You thought they might, and you wanted someone there who could tell if they were going to do that, and you hoped I'd be able to slow them down if it happened, ser."

"That's true enough," replied Taryl. "But what if I wanted to make sure that they'd concentrate on the eastern flank?"

"Was that to make it easier for the marshal to attack their rear?"

"Exactly. But you didn't answer my question."

Rahl closed his eyes for a moment. What was different about Third Company? Him? The fact that he was an ordermage? "You wanted their mages to sense me? But you were the one who told me to keep my shields stronger."

"I did. That was for two reasons. First, it keeps them from locating you precisely, and that will become even more important in the days ahead. Second, it shows your strength."

"And that was why they put so many forces against us?"

"I would judge so."

"What if they had overwhelmed us? Then what?"

"That was a risk, but I do have some faith in you, Rahl."

Rahl was too tired to be as angry as he might have been. He just nodded. "Could I ask you something, ser?"

"You can ask. I might not answer, or not answer to your satisfaction."

"Why did the rebels fight us here?"

Taryl laughed, harshly. "I don't know, exactly, but I can guess. First, they knew my forces were inferior, and they didn't know exactly where the marshal was, because all the strong mage-guards were with Second Army, and they concentrated on us. Second, they don't want to fight in places that will destroy crops or other valuable land or buildings or assets. That doesn't matter as much to the Emperor, because he can draw on the rest of Hamor, but Golyat has to be careful of his resources. If he fights where food or crops are destroyed, he loses much of the support of the people that he now has-and there will be more opposition. He could defeat us in every battle and lose. We don't want that because it would take generations, if not centuries, for Merowey to recover. So… at least in the beginning, we will fight in places like Thalye. But, as we push them back, it could get nastier and more brutal. That is why we must move with great care. It is not just a matter of winning battles."