Imager’s Battalion

he has vast lands, or that they produce much.”

“The High Holders of Bovaria always have much.”

“True … but the battalion can’t eat golds or silvers.”

At the dryness of Quaeryt’s tone, Arion laughed.

Before that long, the battalion reined up short of the pair of stone pillars that marked the entrance to Haeryn’s holding. Each pillar supported an iron gate, chained shut in the middle. A stone wall, less than two yards high, ran some fifteen yards from each gate pillar, parallel to the road, ending just short of a hedgerow.

Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “Akoryt, if you’d come forward and image away the hasp of that ugly lock…”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt thought he saw a flash of … something … in the undercaptain’s normally flat brown eyes, but he just watched as Akoryt eased his mount to a halt just short of the gates. After several moments, while the undercaptain concentrated, the body of the lock dropped away from the hasp.

“Are we to replace the lock once we leave, sir?”

“That would be best,” replied Quaeryt.

Akoryt dismounted and lifted the hasp clear of the chains, then unwound the chains and picked up the lower part of the lock. By the time he’d finished, two Khellan rankers had dismounted and began to open the gates.

“Forward!” ordered Quaeryt.

The outriders led the way along the white gravel drive running straight from the gates to the columned portico in the center of the white stone structure that dominated a low rise surrounded on all sides by lawns and gardens. When Quaeryt reached the portico, less than half a mille from the gates, he could see that every window was shuttered. Two decorative iron outer doors were locked across the entry to the hold house whose two wings each stretched some fifty yards from the center of the building, not quite a miniature palace, but far more than a mere mansion.

Quaeryt hadn’t seen any recent tracks on the drive, and the stone steps up to the covered portico were dusty and without any trace of footprints. While he suspected the outbuildings would be locked-and empty, based on what they had found in Caernyn, he turned the mare and led the company along the drive on the west side of the hold house. Every building was locked and shuttered, even the stable, and the two other dwellings on the property were also locked and shuttered.

The almost-eroded deep ruts outside the structure that looked to be a storehouse suggested that it had been emptied weeks earlier. Even so, Quaeryt had Baelthm sever the storehouse lock, but a search of the building revealed only a few barrels of odd provisions-pickles, and several spoiled-from the odor-barrels of dried fruit.

Investigation of the other buildings and the hold house confirmed that there were no supplies to be had anywhere on the holding.

While Shaelyt repaired the lock on the main door of the hold house, Quaeryt considered. The next nearest High Holder was Fauxyn, reputedly ten milles farther west along the river. Quaeryt thought about heading out directly from Haeryn’s holding, then shook his head. Fauxyn’s lands lay far enough away that he needed to discuss that with Skarpa, especially since he had no idea what the scouts might have discovered, and it would be close to dark, if not later, before they returned to Caernyn.

“We’ll head back to town,” he announced to Arion and the undercaptains.

Once they were on the road, after Akoryt repaired the lock on the main gate, Arion looked from his mount to Quaeryt. “You did not wish to inspect the main house with greater care? There might have been much of value there.”

“Lord Bhayar would prefer the allegiance of the High Holders, rather than their enmity,” replied Quaeryt. “Also, if you destroy all they have, you lose leverage. A holder who has much to lose is much more easily persuaded. Besides, we saw nothing of obvious great value. I imagine such items had already been removed.”

“You truly believe Lord Bhayar will prevail?” asked Arion.

“I don’t know that I could explain why,” said Quaeryt with a slight laugh, “but I feel that is the way in which it will end.”

“Will he be so generous with the High Holders in Khel … those who took our lands?”

How do you answer that? Quaeryt managed a wry smile. “We have not talked about that, but much of his family is Pharsi, and I would doubt that he would regard seizure of lands by Bovarians without cause as rightful ownership. I certainly would not.”

“You say ‘without cause’…”

“I’m trying to be careful. I’m quite certain that when Bhayar defeats Kharst, he will consider Kharst’s actions cause enough to take Kharst’s personal lands. There are times when seizure is necessary … but those of you who serve with us have a claim for restoration of your lands.” And Bhayar should honor it … Quaeryt wasn’t about to voice the last thought because Bhayar would do what he would do, although he was usually fair. But not always.

Arion laughed, a shade bitterly. “Claim? What about a right?”

“Right is always determined by power and who rules. For me to say anything is a right is meaningless because I do not have that power.”

“You have other powers. Will you back our claim?”

“As I can and based on what I see of you and your men.”

Arion nodded abruptly. “I can ask no more.” After a moment he said, “Do you know anything of your parents?”

“Beyond a few memories and a handful of words and phrases in Pharsi?” Quaeryt shook his head. “No one even thought I was Pharsi because of my hair. Not until I met a Pharsi woman in Bhoreal. She was the first to insist I was a lost one. I didn’t even know what that meant. I suppose that shows how truly lost I was.” Quaeryt made the statement just slightly ironic, hoping that Arion would pick up on it, wondering if Arion would, and if what he said was similar to what Shaelyt had revealed.

Arion smiled. “My grandmere told me about the lost ones, but there were none in Khel. It is said that they were forced to leave because of their pride, and that Erion requires even the highest of the lost ones to serve another in recompense…”

Quaeryt mostly listened to the major on the ride back to Caernyn.

Once the company had returned and the mounts were stabled, Quaeryt dismissed fourth company and Akoryt and Baelthm. He sent Shaelyt to find Voltyr.

While he waited outside the stable for the two to return, in his mind he went over the steps by which he had created his own shields. Will it work for them? He had no idea, but he needed to have them develop shields, because, in the bigger battles certain to come, he couldn’t protect them, and he would need to send at least the more able imagers out alone with other companies, perhaps even the other regiments.

He still worried about giving the ability to use shields to Threkhyl, but he’d decide on that after he taught Shaelyt and Voltyr to develop their own shields. If you can … and they can.

When the two returned, Quaeryt was standing by the stable door, still pondering the best approach.

“Sir? You wanted us?”

“I did.” Quaeryt glanced around the area, but there were troopers everywhere, if not especially close. “We’ll need to take a walk.”

The two exchanged glances.

“This way.” Quaeryt turned and headed for the street in front of the stable. He said nothing until they were well away from the main street and standing on a small bluff overlooking the river in an overgrown area between a tinsmith’s and a cooperage. There he turned, with his back to the river, and said, “You two need to learn another imaging skill.”

“Sir?” Voltyr’s forehead furrowed.

“You may have seen that not all blows meant for me struck or impacted me fully?”

Voltyr grinned and looked at Shaelyt, who stifled a grin, then nodded.

“Every imager may have to find his own means of doing this, but…” Quaeryt paused, “according to what I know, if you think of the air around us as if it were like a colorless cloud … and images tiny hooks holding a piece of it together like an invisible wall … well … it could form a barrier, depending on the imager. You’ll have to find out if you can do something like that, the results are more than worth the effort.”