L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

He swallowed the bile and snapped, "Fedeor, take the squad on to join the rest of the company. I need to get to fifth squad."

"Yes, ser!" The squad leader turned. "Fourth squad!"

Rahl edged the gelding over the narrow stream, then downhill past the chaos. He could see the rebel riders beginning to trot up toward fifth squad.

"Fysett! This way! Straight across to me."

The last of fifth squad made it into the trees before the rebels charging up the road were within thirty cubits of where the squad had been drawn up.

Rahl turned the gelding and began to try to slip past the last of fifth squad's riders to reach Fysett, although the squad leader was headed in the right direction to catch up with the rest of Third Company. He tried to sense more of what surrounded them, especially since the trees and brush were thick enough that it was hard to see that far ahead.

Behind them, he could feel more deaths, and he didn't understand that. Certainly, the rebels should have figured out that all they had to do was stay out of the mess. Then, off to his left, Rahl could sense a masked concentration of chaos. Did he dare try to deal with it?

He eased the gelding forward, pressing even more, and managed to make his way around trees and through brush to catch up with Fysett. Despite the lushness of the vegetation and the moistness of the rugged grounds, twigs and small branches crackled under the horses' hoofs.

He had only covered fifty-some cubits before he reached the squad leader.

"Ser?"

"We need to make a slight detour here. There's a small force up to no good off to the right. I'll lead the way."

"Yes, ser." Fysett's professional tone did not mask the resignation beneath, not to Rahl.

Once more, Rahl managed to create a vague shield that blocked his own order-sensing, but only his own. From what he had sensed, the mage-guard had only a few troopers around him, and that suggested that the mage was powerful-or considered himself so. Going after a chaos-mage of that strength was risky, but, if Rahl could eliminate the traitor mage, that would weaken the rebels far more than the loss of a company would-perhaps more than the loss of even a battalion.

After another quarter kay-Rahl thought it was about that far, although it was hard to tell amid the trees and undergrowth-he caught sight of a more open space to his right, as well as the glamour… or attraction… that veiled the trail. He could feel how it led from the main road-the way someone had planned for Third Company to go to avoid the ambush.

"Ser…?" whispered Fysett. "Over there… the way looks easier."

"It's not," returned Rahl in a low voice. "Their chaos-mage created an illusion. I can't see where it goes, but following an illusion usually leads to trouble." More trouble than an honest but hard way.

"Oh…"

"That's why we need to deal with him." Rahl paused, then added, "I'm dealing with him. You may have to deal with the troopers around him." He winced as a branch pushed aside by the gelding flipped up, and the tip slashed at the side of his face. He still wasn't as good in the saddle as he should have been. "Afterwards, we'll head back and rejoin Third Company." He hoped it would work out that way.

How long they paralleled the false trail Rahl wasn't certain, but the chaos feeling continued to grow.

Then, ahead was what appeared to be a clearing. It was not. Or rather, the first part of it was, but behind the illusion, after some ten cubits, the flat land ended in a broad sinkhole, concealed by wizardry. The illusory trail led right into the sinkhole. On the left side of the sinkhole, concealed behind a thin screen of trees and on a low redstone outcropping, were the chaos-mage and a full squad of archers.

Rahl tried to gather a better impression of the mage-guard, not pressing his order-senses, but just trying to receive.

His mouth almost dropped open. He wasn't facing a mage-guard at all, but a white wizard from Fairhaven. Although he had never met one, that sense of whiteness was unlike anything he had ever felt. It had to be a white wizard. It just had to be, and Taryl had been right. The High Wizard of Fairhaven had sent chaos-mages to help the rebels.

"They're here! To the right of the trail! Loose shafts!"

"Frig!" muttered Rahl. He'd been too stunned to think.

Whhstt! An angular firebolt flared from the white mage standing on the redstone outcropping behind the trees and overlooking the gorge. At the impact a small bush to Rahl's right flamed, then collapsed into a pile of ashes.

"Keep the troopers behind the bigger trees," Rahl ordered, sliding out of the saddle and thrusting the gelding's reins at the nearest rider.

Then he turned and moved toward the wizard and the archers, using the tree trunks as rough cover, his long truncheon in one hand.

More firebolts blazed toward fifth squad, but Rahl didn't sense any deaths, only some pain. So far, he realized, the white wizard hadn't even sensed him-just the troopers and their mounts. If he could just get closer…

Holding his full shields behind his vague screen, he continued to hurry forward, moving quickly from tree to tree. He was less than fifteen cubits from the small clearing behind the outcropping and behind a too-slender tree trunk, wondering exactly how to deal with the mage-guard without exposing himself to the archers who were still lofting shafts toward fifth squad. He had his doubts about how well his shields would hold against both a chaos-mage and a full squad of archers firing at short range.

Abruptly, the white wizard turned, and without speaking, flung a wall of chaos-fire at Rahl.

Rahl stepped away from the suddenly flaming tree trunk, dropped the dissembling screen and strengthened his shields. Light and heat flared around him, but his shields held.

Archers turned in his direction, and more chaos-bolts flared toward him. He was never going to get close enough to use the truncheon. How else could he handle the white wizard? He didn't have chaos to throw. He was an ordermage.

Could he throw order?

As he kept moving forward, Rahl formed what he could only think of as a bolt of concentrated order, and recalling what Taryl had said about concentrated order seeking chaos or being sought by it, launched it toward the white wizard. At the same time, he sprinted forward and then hurled the truncheon at the chaos-mage.

Rahl watched, as if everything had slowed, as the truncheon turned end over end, arcing down toward the other mage… as the white wizard flared chaos toward the truncheon.

At that moment, Rahl extended his shields, slamming them against those of the white wizard, and then pressing what order he had left like a knife through the other's shields.

WHHSSSTT!.. Crumptt!

A white wall appeared from nowhere, smashing into Rahl and slamming him into the ground. Flames soared from everywhere.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way…

Then… he felt incredible agony, as if every point on his body had been pierced by a needle, as if thousands had struck him all at once… and then… nothing.

Rahl could feel the hot and dark fog lifting. Overhead, he could see stars. He turned his head, and star-points of light flashed so brightly that he could see nothing. His eyes watered from the pain. He just lay there for a time, trying to ignore the soreness across his back and shoulders and the back of his legs.

In time, he moved his head, just slightly. The star pain-points returned, but not so badly, and he could see through the jabbing needles.

"He's awake, Captain."

Rahl could barely sense Drakeyt, even when he squatted down beside Rahl. "How do you feel, Majer?"

"I've felt better," Rahl admitted. "What happened?"

"I was going to ask you that."