“Don’t wait,” Kharl had said.
“No, ser, but there’s just ash out there now,” Mantar had explained with a smile. “A bit more rain, and no one’ll see anything except some blackened trees, and that happens when lightning strikes.”
Thinking about it, Kharl wasn’t so sure that the groom-driver wasn’t better prepared than Kharl was. Once well into the street, the envoy-mage turned the gelding downhill, then, at the next street, southward.
Demyst moved up alongside Kharl. “City’s quiet this morning. Can’t say I’d expect otherwise.”
“Everyone’s hiding and waiting.”
“What’ll we be facing?”
“Several companies of lancers, and two or three white wizards. Maybe more of either.”
“We have to do this?”
“We don’t, and our children will be fighting Hamor in Austra.” After he’d spoken, Kharl realized that he didn’t have children, not any longer, and Demyst had never had any. “Or all those who do have children will.”
“Sad choice, ser.”
“Most are,” replied Kharl dryly.
As he rode, his eyes and senses alert, Kharl felt-more than once-the brush of chaos that meant a white wizard was trying to keep track of him. From what he could tell, all the white wizards around Brysta were in the same place to the south-unless one was using chaos-skills to hide himself.
He wanted to look back and see how Jeka was doing, but decided against it although he wasn’t certain he liked that she was riding with Erdyl. Then, he had his doubts about her coming, except that her staying behind might be even worse.
Ahead, near where the side street joined the south road, a young man looked at the riders, then sprinted across the bricks and into a single-story dwelling, whose shutters were closed. For just a moment, the echo of the slammed door drowned out the clopping of hoofs.
As they neared the southeast side of Brysta, the bricks of the south street gave way to the packed clay. Each step of the gelding threw up some mud. Because few had traveled the road since the rains had begun the day before, only parts of the road were muddy, and there were but a handful of deep wagon ruts.
On the less-traveled and unpaved section of the south road beyond the city, a company of lancers would churn up the road enough to stop any wagon, and after the first two or three companies traveled it, the later riders would have great difficulty traveling with any speed, and the lower-lying sections would become, if not impassable, places where men and mounts bunched into groups making their way through slowly.
“Road’s going to be slow from here on,” observed Demyst.
“It’s only a kay or so.” Kharl studied the small plots that were neither true holdings nor just gardens that now bordered the road.
To the east of the winding road, the low hills were covered with rocky meadows, and dotted with woodlots and odd-shaped fields. Farther ahead, the road turned due south to skirt the long ridge that overlooked the new patroller barracks and camp.
Kharl held up his hand and reined up. Somewhere ahead, coming up the back side of the hill just ahead, were lancers, more than a few, but not an entire company. “Close in! Right behind me!”
Before he finished his orders, the half squad of Hamorian lancers reined up on the low rise of a field to the east of the road and less than a quarter kay south of where Kharl had halted. As he watched, they drew weapons, blades he thought, until they raised them to their shoulders. More rifles.
Kharl hardened a space of air just in front of him.
Crack! Crack! …
The reports of the rifles sounded muffled. Abruptly, Kharl could feel the force of bullets on the air shield, leaching away some of his strength, if only a slight bit.
As quickly as they had come, the lancers wheeled, then rode back over the rise.
Kharl released the shield. He reached for his water bottle and took it out, taking a long swallow of the still-cool cider before corking it and replacing it in its holder.
“Why’d they do that?” asked Demyst.
“To tire me out,” Kharl replied.
He sat in the saddle, thinking. The rifles changed everything, at least in the open field. Facing sabres or even crossbows, he could get close enough to use his order-magery-or his disorder-magery. With the white wizards tracking him with their sorcery, he couldn’t use a sight shield to get closer without the lancers seeing him-and they could keep firing at him until he was exhausted before he could ever get close enough-on the road or open ground.
He glanced toward the ridge ahead and took in the woodlots. From what he recalled, there was a narrow road through the ridge from the east. The ridge was steep enough that the lancers and patrollers couldn’t fire directly at him and his small party without getting close-very close.
“Ser?” asked the undercaptain.
“We’ll have to leave the road. We’re headed up toward that ridge, using the hills and woodlots for cover.” Kharl turned the gelding off the road and through a gap in the low stone wall that bordered the meadow.
He kept his order-senses looking for lancers, or patrollers, but could not sense any as they rode up the sloping meadow almost directly east. A slight gust of wind swept across them, bringing a few scattered drops of rain, then died away, as did the rain droplets.
As they reached the first woodlot, Kharl could sense no one near the trees, but to the south, another squad of lancers-or the same squad-was using the lower ground between the hill and the ridge as an approach to the road-to try another attack. Kharl smiled, because by the time the lancers reached a point overlooking the road, their quarry would be to the east and south of them, and the lancers would have to ride uphill to catch Kharl.
Still, he didn′t like the fact there were lancers between him and the ridge.
The woodlot ended just short of the flat hillcrest, and Kharl reined up while still in the trees, looking southward.
“We could follow these hills. There’s that other road,” Demyst said, pointing to the brown track a good kay to the south. “Cross the road and follow those hills on the south till we get to the gap in the ridge.”
Kharl nodded. At least until they reached the road, they would either be in the trees or close enough to cover, and mostly on higher ground than any attacker. He had to remember that his goal was not necessarily to kill lancers, or patrollers, but to get close enough to kill Egen and the white wizards.
They covered another half kay to the south before a company of mounted patrollers rode eastward on the narrow road through the ridge gap. Behind them were what looked to be several oblong, canvas-covered carts.
Kharl looked farther south. The next hill had an escarpment of gray stone that faced south and slightly west, and looked to afford some protection, at least for men on foot, and they could tie the mounts farther back in the woodlot.
“Can we make it to that next hill there, you think?” Kharl asked the undercaptain.
“Easy, ser. Won’t even take more than a fast walk. That grass down there is long, and the ground’s soft. Harder here near the crest. You thinking about that rock there.” Demyst grinned.
“I was. Is there something wrong with it?”
“Not so long as we don’t let’em circle to the southeast and come up through the woodlot. Could trap us then.”
“We could have Jeka watch back there.”