L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

When Rahl reached the outrider, he just reined up and waited until the captain ordered Third Company forward. Then he eased the gelding forward. His head ached, and he rubbed his temples with his free hand. He still wondered how the rebels had managed to rig the quarrel-thrower to the falling trunk and what had set it off, but he wasn't about to try to make his way through an unknown swamp, infested with stun-lizards, to figure it out. He'd have to send a message to Taryl warning about that tactic. There were still more than a few of the oaks standing.

Rahl couldn't help breathing more easily when they reached the end of the causeway without any more difficulties. Within half a kay of the end of the swamp, the land firmed up, and Rahl could see steads, and well-ordered lines of low trees-orchards of some sort, although he did not recognize the trees. He also realized that he had regained the fuller range of his order-senses, and, again, he wondered what it had been about the swamp. The stun-lizards?

After riding another kay through the orchard steads, Rahl noted that the ground to the left of the road sloped gently upward, not even steeply enough to be considered a hill, but perhaps a rise. The orchards gave way to fallow fields edged with low stone walls, barely more than knee high.

Just ahead to the left was a lane that ran up the rise. Rahl turned to Alrydd. "I'm going to ride up that a way, just to make sure there's nothing up there."

"Best I be going with you, ser."

Rahl nodded and turned the gelding onto the lane, which was bordered on both sides by the low stone walls, and the fields within the walls had been turned after whatever had been planted had been harvested. A small house was set farther to the west, with a barn behind it. Rahl did not see anyone outside in the late afternoon, although with no wind, the clear skies and bright sun, the day was almost pleasant, cool as it was.

Just short of the top of the rise was a hay wagon, heaped high with bales of hay, the horse tethered to a tree stump, as the farmer loaded another bale. Rahl extended his order-senses, stifling a wince as he did so, because the effort sent miniature knives of pain through his skull. He could sense no chaos in the man, who scarcely looked in his direction.

After a moment, Rahl turned the gelding back down the lane.

"Just the one hay wagon, ser?"

"That's all."

At the road, Rahl turned the gelding back toward Helstyra. He thought he caught a glimpse of water ahead-perhaps the river or the lake. After he had ridden a quarter kay or so, he looked back over his shoulder, catching sight of the hay wagon.

He frowned, then pulled the gelding off the road and looked back down the road. First squad had almost reached the place where the lane and the road joined.

Across the fallow field and low stone fence, Rahl could see the wagon heaped high with bundled hay and pulled by a bony horse now heading down toward the main road. The farmer walked beside the horse, leading it with a tether, but he was walking fast. Too fast, Rahl thought.

Could the wagon be another trap? Had he missed it because his head ached too much? Rahl had his doubts, but even as he turned the gelding back toward the road, urging him into a canter, he extended his order-senses, trying to ignore the pain. The teamster still held no chaos, and there was little around the wagon, but there was something..

Rahl strained to sense what he could, but it was hard trying to sense something while riding, especially after what had already happened.

The wagon had been perhaps three hundred cubits from the intersection with the main road, rolling down the gentle slope behind the horse, when Rahl had begun to hurry back. He could not sense anything else until he was within a few hundred cubits.

Barrels-there were barrels in the low-sided wagon, and they were not stored on their butt ends, but stacked on their sides, roped in place and facing forward. Why would anyone store or transport barrels that way? How had he missed them?

"Company to the rear, ride!" Rahl yelled, trying to order-boost his words to Drakeyt. He could see the captain ordering a halt, but the squads only froze in position.

Rahl kept the gelding moving.

"To the rear, ride!" he bellowed again, as he got within easy hailing distance.

At that moment, the teamster cut the horse loose from the traces-leather, not wood-and swung up onto the horse, then galloped forward just enough to get clear before turning his mount and galloping back up the lane. The wagon began to pick up speed, rumbling more loudly down the lane toward Third Company.

Rahl jabbed his heels into the gelding, hanging on. He had to get closer. He just had to.

He was almost at the intersection, almost within a handful of cubits of first squad, when he sensed a wave of chaos coming from the wagon.

All he could do was throw up shields as strong as he could, extending them as far toward first squad as he could.

CRUMP!

Rahl felt himself being hurled from the saddle, as though a giant invisible hand had swatted him.

Then a second hand-this one hot and black-slammed him into the ground.

Everything hurt. That was Rahl's first feeling.

"He's coming 'round, Captain."

Rahl didn't recognize the voice, and his vision was so blurry that all he could see at first were colored blotches against a blue-green haze that was probably the sky. It had to be, he realized, because he was lying on his back. His sight began to improve, but large unseen hammers pounded on his skull. From what he could sense, he didn't think he'd broken anything, but he had the feeling he was covered with bruises, especially on his right side.

After a time, he slowly sat up, then struggled to his feet, only to take a half score of steps to a low stone wall where he sat down again. His legs were wobbly.

Drakeyt rode over and reined up. "How are you feeling?"

"I'd have to say…" Rahl's throat was so dry and raw that he couldn't say any more.

The captain handed him a water bottle, reaching down.

Rahl's shoulders protested as he lifted a hand to take the bottle. He drank slowly, then added, "I've felt better." He took another swallow, glancing around. To his left gray smoke swirled into the sky, and he realized that he'd been smelling the acrid odor of something burning.

Drakeyt followed Rahl's glance. "We had to move you and the company-that blast set fire to the orchards on the south side of the road." He paused. "What was it?"

"It was a makeshift cammabark cannon," Rahl said slowly, "barrels of cammabark with an iron plate at the bottom and metal fragments on top."

"I thought it was something like that." Drakeyt looked down from the saddle at Rahl. "Everyone should have been shredded. What did you do?"

"I tried to shield Third Company."

"Whatever you did saved a good score of troopers. Could have been more."

"How many didn't I save?"

"About half of second squad, and their mounts," Drakeyt admitted. "I had the men buried short of the woods up there." He gestured behind Rahl. "Not much of a woods, but better than in the fields."

Rahl looked down. He'd been worn-out, in order terms, from the mess on the causeway, and he hadn't realized how much. So another ten men, if not more, had died. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't be up in front to look to one kind of trap or ambush and also be with the main body of Third Company to prevent or protect against another kind of attack. And he couldn't just tell Drakeyt that the scouting and progress was over for the day because he was tired.

He could feel rage and frustration building, but he forced himself to take a deep and slow breath. Getting angry would only make him less able… but he still hated the unfairness of the situation. Slowly, he stood, looking for the gelding.