“You can’t afford to divert rifles from the defense of—" Mari began. “Wait. DKs? What’s a DK?”
“Dragon killer,” Patila explained with a grin. She indicated three long tubes in the wagon. Alain recognized the type of weapon that had saved him in the Northern Ramparts. “Only five have been finished. Lady Alli insisted that you get three of them.”
Mari smiled, then grimaced. “Lady Alli is the best. But why did she send fifteen rifles? I told her to hold onto everything she needed to defend Pacta.”
“She and Colonel Sima felt that we had sufficient firepower to send you the fifteen,” Patila said. “We have enough rifles for everyone trained in their use, and Lady Alli is concerned about giving rifles to those who lack experience. She said she feared they would do more harm to our own side than to the enemy.”
“Having seen Apprentices on their first day on the firing range, I know what Alli is thinking, but still…”
“I’m just following orders, Lady,” Patila said.
“They could be important at Dorcastle,” Alain said, having seen how much Mari wanted to accept the rifles but also that she feared weakening the defenses of Pacta Servanda. “From what I know of Alli, she would not have sent the rifles unless she was confident it was the right decision.”
“Yeah,” Mari agreed. “If Alli says she can spare them… You should have mentioned these when the queen was here, Captain.”
“Lady Mechanic Alli said she would personally inform the queen when she arrived at Pacta,” Patila said.
“All right. Major Danel?” Mari called to the commander of the Tiae cavalry. “How many of your people have ever fired a Mechanic rifle?”
Major Danel came to the wagon, gazing at the weapons in astonishment. Under the long rule of the world by the Mechanics Guild, the less-capable repeating rifles hand-built by the Guild had been so rare and expensive that an entire army might have only ten, with little ammunition for those. “These are intended for us? All of them?”
“All of them.”
“Lady, few of my soldiers have ever used Mechanic weapons in battle, but your General Flyn arranged that we all receive some training while your army was at Tiaesun.”
“You’ve got saddle scabbards for the rifles, too?” Mari asked Patila. “Of course. Alli wouldn’t forget those. Get the rifles handed out to your best shots, Major. There’s ammunition here, too.”
Alain’s attention was diverted as he saw a lanky young man making his way toward them from the horses. There was no sense of menace in the man, just nervousness, but Alain placed one hand on the knife under his robes and drew Captain Patila’s attention to him.
“Hold on,” Patila said, blocking the young man’s path. “Why did you leave the horses?”
“I have a letter,” the man said, stubbornness vying with anxiety at being confronted by the captain. “I have a letter I am supposed to deliver to Sir Mage Alain if I ever see him.”
Patila held out her hand, and with a slight hesitation the man brought forth a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, shook it out and looked it over, then passed the letter to Alain.
Alain, aware that Mari was watching curiously, looked at the letter and despite his Mage training had trouble controlling his reaction. “This is from Bara. Aunt Bara.”
“You…you remember her?” the young man asked.
“I could not forget her, any more than I could forget my mother and father,” Alain said.
“You have an aunt?” Mari demanded. “You never mentioned having an aunt.”
“I did not think she would wish to acknowledge me since I became a Mage.” He began reading.
Sir Mage Alain, you very likely do not remember me, but I am the older sister of your mother. Over two years ago I saw a Mage visit the remembrance grounds in our village and stand before your parents’ graves for a long time. I thought the Mage must be you, but I was afraid to go to him. Since then I have heard many things about the daughter, and about the Mage with her. They say his name is Alain. I can only hope that Mage is my long-lost nephew.
My eldest son Petr wants to join the daughter. I fear for his safety, but he is set on it. He is a good man, but so young yet in his mother’s eyes. If you are Alain, please welcome your cousin Petr, and please look out for him for my sake.
If you are Lori’s son, I know she would be very proud of you for helping the daughter and doing so many brave things. I never forgot you. I hope you have not forgotten us.
Alain had to pause when he finished, trying to deal with emotions he had long kept buried deeply. “Petr. You are the son of Aunt Bara.”
Petr nodded, his face working with emotion. “Is it really you, Alain? We played sometimes, when we were little.”
“I have memories of you,” Alain said. “We were very young. You liked horses. I was frightened of them.”
“You were a few years younger,” Petr said. “The last time we saw each other was on your fifth birthday. Just a little guy.” He held out a flat hand near his hip to mime Alain’s height at the time.
“I remember. The Mages came for me soon after that. I held to the memories of that day even when the Mage elders demanded that we acolytes forget our former lives,” Alain said.
Mari had taken the letter, read it, and now smiled at Petr. “Welcome, cousin.”
Petr turned an awestricken look on her. “Lady…I…I…I’m not—"
“I’m married to Mage Alain. That makes us cousins,” Mari said. “Thanks for helping to free the world. Please write your mother and tell her that Mage Alain was very happy to see you.”
“Is…he?” Petr asked, eyeing Alain’s unrevealing expression.
“I am,” Alain said, trying his best to relax and show feeling. He knew his smiles often looked strained, but attempted one anyway.
“That’s good. But…daughter…” Petr fumbled. “I wanted to be a soldier for you. When I got to Pacta they told me that people who were good with horses were needed more than people who were good with swords.” He shrugged apologetically. “Not that I’m good with a sword.”
“They told you the truth,” Mari said. “Without good herders our cavalry and our wagons don’t move. You and your skills are playing a very important part in defeating the Great Guilds. I’m sorry we can’t stay to visit, but we have an important appointment in Dorcastle.”
Alain, grateful that Mari was so smoothly welcoming and reassuring to Petr, fought his Mage training successfully enough to be able to reach out and grasp Petr’s shoulder. “I am…happy to see you once more after so many years.”
Mari had pulled out a sheet of paper and was quickly writing. “Captain Patila? I know you’ll be very busy once you get back to Pacta, but I need to have this delivered to my parents.”
“Of course, Lady. They’ll be all right,” Patila added.
“I’m sure they will be with defenders like you,” Mari said. “Thank you.” Mounting her new horse with a pained expression as her bottom met the saddle, Mari flashed another smile at Petr, though Alain could see the strain she hid behind it. “Look us up when we get back to Pacta.”
Petr nodded to her, then to Alain with a wide smile, before turning and jogging back to the other wranglers.
Major Sten rode up, looking more haggard than the rest of the column but just as determined. “You said Colonel Sima is in command at Pacta Servanda?” he asked Patila.
“Yes, sir,” Patila agreed. “He’s the senior officer in the Army of the New Day at Pacta.”
“Is there…” Sten paused, grimacing. “I don’t know how to ask this. Sima is from the Confederation. I worked with him some years ago. From your accent, you must be from the Western Alliance. Do you work well with him?”
“Yes,” Patila said. “Sima is a good commander. We’ve got officers from the Confederation, the Alliance, the Free Cities, and even a former Imperial. The soldiers and sailors are just as mixed a lot.”
“And you work well together?” Sten extended his hand. “That is good to he
ar. We’ve grown too separate, haven’t we? But the Army of the New Day shows that we can work side-by-side."
“The Great Guilds have tried to keep the commons separate,” Mari said as Patila shook Sten’s offered hand. “But we are all one people.”
Patila looked a question at her. “Legend says the Mechanics came from the stars.”
“We all came from the stars,” Mari said.
Alain, seeing their astonished expressions, added a warning. “Do not yet speak of this to others. When the war is won, all shall know. Until then, there are those who must be protected.”
“Yes, Sir Mage,” Patila said, breaking her stare at Mari to salute Alain.
“Hold Pacta,” Mari said to Patila as the column prepared to ride north again. “Queen Sien and I talked on the way up here. If you can’t hold, I told her to blow up everything and fall back toward Tiaesun.”
Alain cast a glance at Mari. Sien had firmly rejected the idea of abandoning Pacta Servanda no matter how bad the pressure got, even though Mari had insisted on it if retreat proved necessary. Having learned some wisdom about people, he had stayed out of the argument. The two women were equally determined to do as they thought best and unwilling to yield to the logic of the other. In this case, both were right in their positions. But he did not expect Sien to fall back.
“Sir Mechanic Lukas was supervising the placing of explosives when I left,” Patila said, her face somber once more. “Some of those explosives will greet the Syndaris on the piers and the beaches when they arrive. Fear not, Lady. We will hold Pacta for you and for the queen of Tiae.”
“Hold it for you!” Mari called as the column started north again, smaller now.
The forty cavalry were notable for their absence, but the loss of Queen Sien felt harder to deal with, Alain thought. “What was in the note to your parents?” Alain asked Mari as they once more rode side by side.
She shrugged, as if pretending it was no big thing. “I wanted them to know I love them. Just in case I don’t get another chance to tell them that.” Mari looked at him. “And I told them that if you survive and I don’t, I hope my parents will always consider you their son and that Kath will always think of you as a brother.”
“My thanks.” Alain shook his head. “But I will not survive without you.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
Their mounts were fresh and frisky, posing some problems for men and women whose bodies were tired and sore. Major Danel led the column at a brisk enough pace to wear out the horses a little so they would be easier to handle, after which the familiar routine settled in once more. Ride for a while, dismount and walk for a while, mount up again, switch mounts, walk for a while, and so on until the sun was long past setting and the column finally halted for the darkest portion of the night.
They left the city of Minut far to the west as they rode, heading north toward the heart of the Bakre Confederation.
It was late in the afternoon of the next day when the weary column reached the border with the Confederation, where a narrow bridge spanned the broad river known here as the Glenca. The column was once again walking their horses, trudging along with footsore resolve, when the bridge came into sight.
Alain followed Mari and Major Sten as they walked their horses along the bridge to the Bakre Confederation side. There a stout barrier, a fortified guardhouse, and a small detachment of soldiers waited.
Sten, himself a Confederation officer, reached the barrier first. “Open up, Lieutenant,” he told the commander of the border guards. “The daughter and her Mage are on their way to Dorcastle.”
The lieutenant stared at Mari, then at Alain, then switched her gaze to the soldiers with Mari. “A courier passed this way earlier with the news. The daughter is welcome, and…” Her eyes avoided looking directly at Alain. “This is her Mage?”
“Yes,” Mari said, her voice growing a little sharp at the lieutenant’s reaction.
Alain understood it, though. To the world, Mages were objects of fear and loathing, a reputation earned by centuries of Mages taught to think of other people as mere shadows on the illusion of the world, shadows who could be mistreated or exploited without a second thought. “No ally of Lady Mari need have any fear of me,” he told the lieutenant, doing his best to put feeling into the words.
“Yes, Sir Mage. Lady, it goes without saying that you and your Mage may enter the Confederation. But…these are foreign soldiers with you.”
“From the army of Tiae,” Major Sten said. “Sent by Queen Sien to escort the daughter safely to Dorcastle.”
“And then to assist in the defense of the city,” Mari added.
“They come to our aid?” the lieutenant asked, astounded. “I mean no offense, but I did not think it possible that Tiae could spare any soldiers to aid us.”
“They cannot spare any,” Sten said. “But still they send help.”
“By order of their queen,” Mari added. “Even though the Confederation did not presume to ask, Queen Sien sent what she could.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened as they took in the rifles at the saddles of Mari and many of the soldiers. “This is an incredible gift. Open the barrier,” she ordered her troops. “Konstan, ride to Denkerk and tell them the daughter, her Mage, and valiant soldiers of Tiae will be there this evening. Let our commander know that they will need fresh horses and spares for sixty-three riders.”
As they walked past the lieutenant and onto the soil of the Confederation, Mari paused to smile at the lieutenant and her soldiers. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Lady,” the lieutenant replied. “Soldiers! Salute!” She and her small force held their salutes as the soldiers of Tiae walked their horses past.
Alain saw the weary cavalry perk up at the gesture of respect. For nearly twenty years the Kingdom of Tiae had been broken, fallen into anarchy, its lands given over to the depredations of bandits and warlords fighting over the scraps of the once proud land. To be from Tiae was to be a refugee from a failed state. But now they received honors from those who would once have disdained them or viewed them with suspicion. Taught as a Mage that emotions meant nothing, Alain saw the impact of the salutes on the Tiae cavalry and realized once again that the teachings of the Mage Guild were false.
“You should uncase your colors,” Major Sten advised Mari. “Let it be clear who rides north.”
“Good advice,” Major Danel of Tiae agreed. He passed the order back, and the two soldiers carrying the banners removed their protective sleeves so that the green and gold flag of Tiae waved over the column of riders beside Mari’s blue and gold banner of the New Day.
They passed through a small village, the citizens gathering alongside the road to cheer and offer food and drink to the passing soldiers. But they had far to go yet to Dorcastle, so despite the lateness of the day and the sun sinking toward the horizon the column kept moving.
It was after sunset when they spotted Denkerk ahead, impossible to miss since the town had apparently lit every lantern, torch, and beacon the people could get their hands on. The town garrison—local militia forces rather than Confederation regulars—stood in ranks outside the town to greet the arriving cavalry and escort them into Denkerk.
Tables had been set up in the central square, loaded with food and drink. The horses were led off to be cared for by locals after the soldiers of Tiae removed personal items and their new rifles from the saddles.
“The mayor and the council await, Lady,” the local commander told Mari, indicating the doorway to the grandest building on the square.
“Aren’t we all eating out here?” Mari asked, looking around.
“Uh…yes, but…the daughter…special…”
Mari shook her head. “I need to eat with the others. Please ask the mayor and council to join us.”
“Certainly, Lady!”
“What do you think is funny?” Mari asked Alain, standing next to him with a worn-out expression. He knew without asking that after all the riding she hurt too much
to sit down again right away.
“Is funny the right word?” Alain asked, not surprised that Mari had seen feelings in him where others would have seen nothing. “I knew you would eat with the soldiers before you spoke.”
“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “So?”
“It is who you are. I like who you are.”
Mari smiled at him. “Good. Because you’re stuck with who I am.”
The next moment her attention was diverted to the town officials coming out to greet her. Alain watched, silent. No one sought to speak to him. Even though Alain wore the armband of the New Day, none of the commons here knew how to approach him. Certainly none of them showed any desire to speak to a Mage.
He rarely noticed these days the intangible thread that had connected him to Mari since he first developed feelings for her. There and not-there, the thread would stretch and fade with enough distance, but this close it offered Alain a connection, invisible to all others, with another person. He welcomed that more than usual.
Alain realized that he had become used to having around him people who welcomed his company. Friends. Once more among commons who saw Mages only as something to fear and avoid, he keenly felt the absence of friendly faces. If not for Mari being here he would be as one completely alone amidst the crowds.
Perhaps it was the melancholy brought on by that realization that triggered his erratic and unreliable foresight once more.
It had been nearly a year since he had seen the terrible vision of Mari at some future time, lying on a surface of fitted stone blocks, apparently near death. But now he saw the same vision, saw the blood upon her jacket, and had barely time to take in the horrible scene before the foresight faded and left him looking at Mari as she stood before him, doing her best to greet and reassure the local officials.
Alain kept his expression rigid despite the jolt of fear the vision brought. They were on their way to Dorcastle, to the great battle he had foreseen long before, and surely that was why he had once again seen Mari badly injured. Everything they had tried to avoid that battle had failed. If that awful fight at Dorcastle was where she was destined to be so badly hurt, could he change that? Or would his attempts to change it bring it about instead?