L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

Rahl wanted to protest that his failure couldn't have been the only reason for the retreat.

"It wasn't," Taryl replied, "but it forced us to retreat earlier than would have been optimal, before we had inflicted as much damage on the defenders as we could have." He paused and looked directly at Rahl. "Also, it wouldn't hurt to practice your shields when you're exhausted. Other mages certainly won't respect your tiredness, and merely shielding your feelings and thoughts takes little energy if you do it right."

"Yes, ser," Rahl replied tiredly, making the effort.

"That's better."

So it was better. What difference did it make? All Taryl did any more when he met with Rahl was criticize, and that wasn't exactly helpful.

The overcommander shook his head. "I can't order-sense what you're feeling, but shields don't do much good if people can read your face."

Rahl said nothing. He had the feeling that Taryl wasn't even angry, but withdrawn, and perhaps tired.

"I could provide you with greater counsel, Rahl, but counsel does not develop independence and judgment. You must make enough mistakes, while trying your best, and while someone else can deflect the blame, in order to gain wisdom. Your magisters of Recluce did you no favors, nor did they do me any, either. I ask you this-would I spend so much time with you when so much is at stake if I did not care?" After the briefest of pauses, he went on. "Now… get some rest and eat as much as you can. And while you're resting, try to think over the situations you might be in and the way to respond by using the least order-effort possible."

With that, Taryl nodded, turned, and departed.

Rahl lay back on the straw pallet and looked up at the twin, last-flashed images of the rough plank ceiling of the shed, all too aware, especially now, that he was out of the cold and mist just because he was a useful weapon. Was that all Taryl had wanted? It couldn't be, could it? Taryl had worked with him long before anyone knew about the revolt… and he said he cared, and Rahl had to admit that he was getting more attention than did most junior officers. Yet Taryl expected something of him. That, too, was clear.

Rahl took a deep breath. Whatever the reason, he hadn't exactly pleased the overcommander.

The double images remained with Rahl's sight through the remainder of eightday but had vanished when he woke early on oneday. The dull aching in his head that he had not noticed because of the sharpness of the light-knives remained, as did occasional flashes. He also had bruises on his back and shoulders that were more than tender to the touch, or when he stretched, but he still managed to find and saddle the gelding.

Overhead, the same thick clouds that had darkened the sky on eight-day remained, and beneath them, swirls of misty fog rose from the river, swathing Selyma and the lower part of the hillsides with thick white curtains that shifted with the barely perceptible breeze. With the fog came a damp and almost fetid odor, and a sense of decay that went beyond mere smell. Was that an effect created by the rebel mages? Or just what happened in Selyma when winter fogs rose off the Awhut River?

Once he mounted, even with his order-sensing, it took Rahl some effort to find where Third Company was forming up.

"Should you be out here?" asked Drakeyt, when Rahl rode up and joined him.

"As much as any officer," replied Rahl with a wry smile, "but I won't be able to do as much magery. I can still handle the truncheon."

"You might as well call it a blunted blade." Drakeyt shook his head. "If anyone had ever told me I'd serve with an officer who did more damage with a truncheon than most squads do with blades, I'd not have believed it. How…" He didn't finish what he might have said.

"I was taught truncheon from the time I could hold one," Rahl said slowly. "Then I worked with blade masters when I was older, and… well… I can add a little strength to the truncheon when I wield it."

"You're a mage-guard, but I've served with them before, and most of them, even the ones who can handle blades, use a sabre more like an ax." Drakeyt laughed softly, but the sound carried in the foggy air. "They couldn't chop that hard, either."

"I was fortunate. I've had good teachers." Rahl looked up at the dark clouds. It seemed strange that he could see the clouds overhead more clearly than a trooper twenty cubits away.

"You think it will rain?" asked Drakeyt.

"Sooner or later, and it could be a downpour."

"Maybe that's why they've got us out early. The overcommander wants another try at the hill before it turns to slick mud."

Rahl almost asked if that wouldn't hurt the defenders as much as the Imperial forces before he realized one simple thing. The rebels only had to stop the attack, and if mud did the job…

"Would you like to ride out with fourth and fifth squads?"

"Of course." Rahl realized that Drakeyt was suggesting where he ought to be, and that position made sense for many reasons. He inclined his head and eased his mount eastward.

Lyrn nodded as Rahl took position even with the first ranks and between fourth and fifth squads.

Rahl could see less than fifty cubits ahead through the foggy mist. Why was Taryl continuing the battle under such conditions? Because ordermages could sense better than chaos-mages? Or because all the water in the air reduced the power of the chaos-mages? Or just because he wanted to keep pressure on the rebel defenders? Or was there something else that Rahl was missing?

"Companies! Forward!"

"Third Company! Forward!" echoed Drakeyt.

As he rode forward, Rahl had to remind himself that his task was to use his truncheon to protect himself and the Third Company troopers, while being more aware of everything that was happening and learning from it.

Farther uphill, he could sense a concentration of chaos.

Whsst! The firebolt that flew from the earthworks at the top of the hill plowed into the damp and matted grass a good hundred cubits short of Third Company. The chaos-fire barely spread at all beyond the impact area before dying away.

A second firebolt fared little better.

Rahl kept pace with the front ranks of fourth and fifth squad as they rode up the gentle slope. He kept trying to reach out beyond the misty fog with his order-senses.

Near the top of the hill and to his left, Rahl could sense riders-lancers-forming up just in front of the crude earthworks. With the fog surrounding him, he could not see the lancers, only order-sense them. They dressed their lines and began to head downhill, initially moving at little more than a fast walk.

Why were the rebel lancers heading downhill and into the fog? The slope was even enough and dry enough for the moment that footing wasn't likely to be a problem, but it still seemed foolish to Rahl-at first glance. On second thought, it made much more sense. The fog was thick enough that the Imperial forces would be hard-pressed to see a lancer and react before that lancer was upon them. The lancers could just strike and break away, and the fog would hide them from archers and what few chaos-bolts Taryl could muster.

"They're bringing lancers from the east side of the hill, the same way they did yesterday," Rahl called to Drakeyt, using a touch of order to project his words to the captain.

"Third Company, to the left, half wheel!"

As Rahl swung to the left, he tried to think of what he could do.

Could he slow the charge of the lancers? Did he have to? If he couldn't see the lancers, how could they sense the individual squads of Third Company? Rahl let himself grin, then checked the lancers' position.

"Fourth squad! Fifth squad! On me!"

"On the majer!" called out Lyrn.

Rahl turned the gelding almost north, checking with his order-senses, then swung back south and halted, waiting for the two squads to dress lines. He turned to Lyrn. "We're north of their charge. Once they pass by uphill of us, we'll swing behind them." Then he turned to the end trooper in fourth squad and repeated his words, adding, "Pass it on."