L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

Rahl's headache had only subsided slightly by the time he neared first squad and Drakeyt. He glanced back over his shoulder, then nodded. The bluff was not in sight, and that meant that the archers most likely hadn't spotted the main body of the company. He turned back to the captain.

"What is it?"

"We've got a bunch of rebel archers up ahead. They're somewhere on the hill up there, probably in the trees just behind the flat area back of that low bluff on the other side of the stream. I couldn't sense how many, but I don't think there are more than a score."

Drakeyt glanced from Rahl to the bluff, then nodded. "Up there, the ravine's too wide and deep for us to cross. What do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to try to take them, at least capture a few, without too many casualties. Once they see the company is holding position, if we don't move after a while, they'll back off. I'd suggest that I take fourth squad and fifth squad. We'll backtrack just down there where we can cross the stream. Then we'll move through the trees-the undergrowth isn't very heavy here-and circle the hill, then move up from the southwest. If first squad crosses the stream with us, but just follows the slope above the stream, if any of the archers try to flee, they'll be moving toward the squad."

"Second and third squads are to take their time moving toward the bluff on the road, I take it?" asked Drakeyt.

"After taking a break in plain sight of the archers, but well out of range of any that might have tried to sneak closer."

"That might work."

Rahl shrugged. "I'm ready for any better ideas."

Drakeyt laughed. "We could circle the hill and avoid them altogether, but somehow, I don't think the submarshal or the overcommander would be especially happy about that."

"No. We're supposed to find and remove all problems without casualties and without causing additional delays."

"And without any inconvenience to the most honorable submarshal," murmured Drakeyt in a voice low enough not to carry to the troopers reined up behind the two officers. "Your plan is as good as any, except that I'd suggest half of second squad accompany first squad. That will still leave a large-enough-looking force on the road, but give more coverage for any rebels who might flee."

"That's better," agreed Rahl.

After a short break, Rahl led his squads back down the road a good quarter kay to where the horses could easily descend the slope to the stream and then climb the other side.

Drakeyt followed with his squad and a half, while Quelsyn held the road with the remaining forces and the few pack animals. Rahl could sense the combination of doubt and puzzlement within the senior squad leader. While he did not know the actual reasons for Quelsyn's feelings, he was getting the idea that the senior squad leader was one of those men who had trouble accepting anything he could not see, touch, or experience. Since Quelsyn had no order-senses, the trooper had no understanding of why what Rahl did usually worked.

Rahl had ridden at the head of his squads through the low pine trees and up a slope that steepened gradually for almost a kay before his headache subsided into a dull ache. He did not begin to sense the archers with his direct order-senses until they were on the back side of the hill, less than half a kay from the bluff.

"Quiet riding. Pass it back," he ordered.

From what he could sense, the archers did not react or discover his squads during the entire time that they circled the back of the hill and turned back uphill.

Rahl reined up, lifting his arm to let the troopers know. "Squad leaders forward," he added quietly. "Pass it back."

Within a few moments, both squad leaders reined up beside Rahl.

He glanced from Fedeor to Fysett, then spoke. "There are less than a score of archers, but they all have horn bows at hand. They're watching the road, and, if we're quiet, we can probably get within a quarter kay without their noticing, maybe closer. The way we're approaching will allow us to ride about five across, roughly abreast. If possible, I'd like a few prisoners, but not at the cost of troopers."

Rahl's last words brought a nod from Fysett.

"We'll quiet ride uphill from here. I'd judge we'll get another hundred, maybe two hundred cubits before they notice. When they do, I'll signal, and we'll charge-as we can."

"More like a slow canter," suggested Fedeor.

"The best we can do," said Rahl.

They nodded.

Rahl waited for them to pass the word in low whispers, then started the gelding uphill once more.

They were within a hundred cubits of the nearest archer, when Rahl sensed movement among the archers. He dropped his arm and urged the gelding forward, although the pace was little faster than a quick trot, given the need to avoid the scrubby and wide-spaced pine trees. He and the other five troopers riding slightly before him were almost at the south edge of the narrow clear space above the bluff before the warning cries went up.

"Imperials! Imperials!"

Rahl had his truncheon out, but the troopers were more experienced than he was in the semimelee, and their heavy sabres were far more effective than the horn bows of the rebel archers. Within moments, the rebels were either dead or wounded or disarmed, but several had gotten off shafts-Rahl had felt them strike one or two of his troopers, but he had not sensed death.

He reined up and tried to order-sense any archers who might have fled to the north, but he could not sense anyone in the trees away from the small clearing at the edge of the red-sandstone bluff. He turned the gelding back toward the trees from where the archers had tried to defend themselves.

"We got 'em all. Don't think any of them escaped, ser," announced Fedeor, reining up short of Rahl.

"How about our men?"

"Two took shafts. Looks like they'll be all right."

"I'll need to look at them in a bit."

"Yes, ser."

Rahl looked over what remained of the rebel archers. Six lay where they had been cut down. Two were wounded, and from the fading order and chaos, one was dying. Two others stood silently, as their hands were bound. All wore the khaki shirts and trousers and maroon vests of the rebels, but each man's outer jacket was different. Each also bore the hint of chaos.

After tying the gelding to one of the larger pines, Rahl strode toward the nearest of the prisoners-a gaunt-faced man who just looked blankly at Rahl as he approached. One of fourth squad's troopers had bound his hands and stood with a sabre at the ready.

"Why did you join the rebels?" asked Rahl.

"To fight for a real emperor, ser."

"Who sent you here?"

"The Emperor Golyat, ser."

"Where did you come from?"

"The Emperor sent us, ser."

"When did you leave Nubyat?"

"When the Emperor sent us, ser."

"How did you travel to get here?"

"I wouldn't know, ser."

Rahl kept asking questions, but the answers were much the same, either a variation on the Emperor or a variation on not knowing. Rahl could sense that the archer was not lying, and that the answers were the only ones that he had. Somehow, some sort of chaos compulsion or lock had been placed on him. Rahl would have to investigate that later.

He walked across the clearing to the second unwounded archer, beginning his questioning with, "Why did you join the rebels?"

"To fight for a real emperor, ser."

Every reply was almost identical to those given by the first archer.

He turned to the one wounded archer who was still living… and fared no better.

In disgust, he stepped back and looked over the surviving archers. He was missing something. Something so obvious… Then he shook his head. None of the archers were young. In fact, all were at least as old as his own father.

He walked over and began to check the bodies, including their hands.