L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

After he rode another fifty cubits or so, he stood in the stirrups and raised his arm, but kept riding. He led the patrol about fifty cubits past the spot on the north side where the three huddled. He could sense no weapons except sabres, and one long staff. "Squad, to the rear ride and form up!" He swung the gelding out onto the shoulder of the road and back east, reining up until the squad was in position.

"Forward!" He eased the gelding into a fast walk, not daring to ride more swiftly, not with the trees and underbrush and his own less-than-adequate riding skills. A man might be able to gain on him for a short time, but not for that long.

"First ranks on the captain!" ordered Roryt. "Last two ranks on me and the road!"

Rahl found himself using his riding truncheon as a way to keep branches from whipping into his face, but even so, he'd have scrapes from the evergreen needles and the leathery winter gray leaves of the hardwoods.

Surprisingly, the three rebels did not move immediately, not until Rahl was within twenty cubits or so. "They're directly in front of me! Flank me!"

The three sprinted away from Rahl.

He could sense that there was a low bush in the middle of the berm, and he guided the gelding through the opening between two firs and after the heavyset rebel who had been in the middle.

The rebel glanced over his shoulder, then darted to the left, between a pair of trunks, one a massive oak, the other a younger fir.

Rahl rode around the right side, losing some ground in the knee-high underbrush, but after another fifty cubits, he was within ten cubits of the running rebel. At that moment, the man turned toward an oak with a chest-high branch, and jumped to catch it. He straddled it and turned, whipping out a sabre, awkwardly.

Rahl reined up, then struck with the long truncheon. The rebel's blade went spinning into the brush.

"Don't move," snapped Rahl. "Not unless you want something broken."

The rebel froze, holding on to the branch with one hand. His eyes widened as he took in the mage-guard visored cap.

Rahl took in the rebel's uniform, khaki shirt and trousers with a jacket of blotched and faded maroon. "First squad!" Even as Rahl called out the words, a pair of troopers appeared, riding rather casually through the woods. "Over here!"

"Yes, ser."

As they rode up, Rahl said, "Tie him up and take him back to the road. Don't hurt him unless he tries something. We need to talk to him." He turned to the rebel. "If you try to escape, I'll track you down, and there won't be enough of you for the vulcrows."

"Yes, ser." The rebel's voice was steady, but Rahl could sense the fear beneath.

He eased the gelding away from the two troopers. "I need to track check on the others."

Rahl had only managed to travel another fifty cubits or so through the trees toward what he sensed was a group of troopers.

"Ser! Over here!"

He had to backtrack around a copse of saplings growing up around a fallen hardwood before he could join the four troopers.

A rebel in another faded maroon jacket lay sprawled across a crumbling log. He was dead.

"He tried to slice up my mount, ser. Wouldn't surrender."

Rahl supposed that happened. "Two of you cart him back to the road. Have the senior squad leader search him to see if we can learn anything from what he carried. Two of you come with me. Did any of you see where the other rebel went?"

One trooper pointed vaguely to the northeast. "He was running fast, ser."

"He can't run that fast for long." Rahl extended his order-senses. While he could generally sense the fleeing rebel, using his senses in the wood was harder than on the road. Why? Because of everything living around him?

Once more he set out.

Rahl thought he must have ridden more than a kay before he closed to within a few hundred cubits of the third rebel. The two troopers trailed him by more than a hundred cubits.

The man began to run, once more, but his legs were tired.

Rahl followed.

Abruptly, the rebel turned, his back against an ancient and rotting trunk.

"You… get close… and I'll take down your mount. Blade longer than yours… Flame me if you want, but you'll not take me alive." The words were delivered between gasps.

Rahl extended his shields to protect the gelding's legs and rode toward the rebel. The ancient long blade swung, and rebounded from the shields. As it did, Rahl dropped the shields and slammed the truncheon down across the shoulder above the rebel's blade-wielding arm. He added some order to the blow, and a dull crunch followed. The blade fell from the rebel's numb hand, and the rebel staggered, then dropped to his knees.

Rahl waited, watching, until the two troopers neared. "Truss him up, but keep him from more harm. We'll take him back. I need to question them both." He watched as the older trooper dismounted and used strips of leather to bind the wounded man's hands together.

The rebel was staggering and barely able to walk after less than a quarter kay. Rahl had the troopers hoist the man up before him on the gelding for the rest of the ride back to the road.

Quelsyn was waiting with the remainder of the patrol. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Rahl and the two troopers-and the second captive. He turned his mount to follow Rahl.

Rahl eased the wounded man off the chestnut at the side of the road where Roryt and another trooper guarded the first captive and the body of the dead rebel lay.

"There wasn't much in his gear," Quelsyn said. "Just a few coppers and a map."

"Did it show a route?" Rahl dismounted, slowly.

"According to the map, they left from Maugyta. The map showed the way to the Swarth River maybe thirty kays downstream from Kysha."

"That's where the cannon was that fired on the convoy," Rahl said, handing the gelding's reins to one of the troopers and turning to the two captives. "How many of you made the trip out with the cannon?"

"What cannon?" asked the uninjured captive.

"You're lying." Rahl smiled, coldly. "I was on the ship you hit. I know all about the cannon. We have one of your maps. You can make this hard or easy." He extended a sense-almost a compulsion for the two to offer the truth. "Let's try again. How many of you were there?"

Both men squirmed, but did not speak.

Tired as he was, Rahl extended his shields, pressing against the injured trooper. The man swallowed.

"How many?"

"A little more than a score, ser."

"Did you start out with any cannon?"

"No, ser. Didn't have no cannon. Awaiting for us in a hidden place east of Dawhut. Powder, too."

"Exactly where was this place…"

When Rahl finished getting what he could about the locations and the forces and the trip, he asked, "How did you expect to get back to Maugyta?"

"Plenty of steads along the way." The uninjured trooper shrugged. "They don't support the real emperor, then they'll pay."

"I don't notice you had much in the way of supplies. What stead were you headed for?"

Neither rebel said a word.

Rahl just looked at them. After a moment, he extended his shields. "Talk."

The wounded man winced. "… stead up ahead… only a pair of oxen and a donkey… left it alone on the way out."

"I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Squad leader Cleyn made us just sneak stuff from the back of the smokehouse when they were out in the fields. Said we didn't want to upset anyone, or let 'em know we were here till afterward. Wouldn't matter then. Then we could do what we liked. Woman looked sorta pretty."

Rahl kept asking questions until it was clear that neither man knew much more.

"What are we going to do with them, ser?" asked Quelsyn.

"Take them back to Troinsta and have the chief patroller lock them up until someone from the campaign can get them."