The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [176]
I shrugged. What choice did I have? A few worn-out soldiers and a less capable wizard ahead, or fresh troops and Antonin behind?
The choice was clear enough. I just didn’t like either alternative.
I wiped my forehead, even though I knew neither the sun’s heat nor glare had reached through my shield.
Wheeee…eee…
“I know. There are evil types behind us and worse in front of us. But you’re going to have to give up the idea of hauling baggage for the prefect.”
Again, I tried to sense what lay over the hillcrest before me, whatever it was that Gairloch disliked. All I could feel was a sense of heat, of the fire that was the chaos trademark.
Wheeee…
“I know.” I chucked the reins again. Then I grabbed for my staff.
Tra…tra, tra, tra. The faint sounds of a horn echoed from behind me. Just wonderful. On a beautiful, sunlit fall day in Candar, I was sitting in the middle of a road between Gallos and Kyphros. A wonderful day for a picnic or even a ride. Too bad there were bloodthirsty Gallians behind me and in front of me, and a wizard with each troop.
Wheee…
“I know. It wasn’t exactly my idea, either.”
So we crossed the hillcrest and started down.
Clink…
Downslope, more than a score of armed troopers were mechanically looting what had to be bodies. The mechanical nature of the movements told me that the victors—this time—had been the prefect’s troops.
“Harmin! Form up your squad! Wizard says there’s an armed man coming.”
In spite of myself, I grinned. Me, an armed man? With a small knife and a staff that was only defensive?
“Deres, Nershal, move it!”
Five mounted figures drew together and began walking uphill.
Clink…clinkedy…clink…
“How far?”
“Right at the hilltop!”
“There’s no one there!”
Nerve-wracking as it was, I guided Gairloch onto the side of the road, into the grasses, gambling that the scrunched sounds of damp grass would be less obvious than hoofprints suddenly appearing on the clay road.
The nearest rider passed less than two arm-lengths from us as the five men headed up the road.
“Check the road for hoofprints!”
Somebody was thinking—unfortunately.
We kept moving toward the troop. The wizard, a blob of white mounted on a horse that was probably also white, waited in the shade of a tall pine downhill from the man who shouted the orders.
Wheeee…eeee…
“What was that?”
“Quiet,” I whispered into Gairloch’s ear, patting his neck. “Quiet…”
We had to get closer to the white wizard, but not seem as though that were my purpose. So I kept Gairloch headed downhill, paralleling the road.
“He’s past you! You idiots! Turn around! Look for hoofprints! Marks in the grass!”
By then we were nearly abreast of the heavy-set officer who bellowed. Beside him were two other mounted men, plus two prisoners on horseback—at least they were blindfolded and had their hands tied behind them. And I was powerless to do anything to save them—not with my own order powers, at least.
Still…I found myself turning Gairloch across the road, straight toward the officer.
“He’s headed toward you.” The flat voice carried uphill from the shaded wizard.
“He’s headed this way!” The officer yanked his sword out, as did the pair beside him.
Hsssss…
“Aeiiii…damned…”
Hsss…
Clang…
“Harmin!”
Wheeee…eeeee…
Almost easy, it was. Just a quick blow with the staff to the wrists of all three men—who still couldn’t see me. So chaos-filled were they that the mere touch of the staff was agony. And I encouraged their horses to run—after knocking the reins of the two captives’ horses from the hands of the third man.
Then I jammed the staff back into the holder and used my knife to slash at the bonds of the prisoners. That took too long. Trying to cut through rope from pony-back isn’t easy.
Whhhhsttt!
A bolt of pure chaos-fire licked around me, and I expanded the shield around the two.
“Hold still!” I hissed.
“Mmmmmppphhhh…”
Gagged, of course, and probably telling me to get on with it.
“Harmin! Get the bastard!”
Whhhsssstttt…Another sheet of flame cascaded off my shields.
I cut the