Hell's Gate

Chapter Twenty

Jasak Olderhan was torn between impatience to get underway, frustration, fury, and fear.

Otwal Threbuch was overdue. A soldier of his ability and experience should've made the hike to the class seven portal and back to the base camp by now. But his walking wounded had reported back two days ago, according to Hundred Thalmayr's hummer report to Five Hundred Klian, and still there was no sign of Threbuch or Emiyet Borkaz.

That was worrisome. Had Threbuch run into more of Shaylar's people? Even if he had, that didn't necessarily mean anything dire had happened. For one thing, it simply took longer to move without being seen or heard by an enemy than it did to hike through unoccupied territory. And, Jasak reminded himself, he really had no idea how big the portal he'd sent the chief sword to recon might be. If Gadrial and Magister Halathyn were right about it, its sheer size might well have delayed Threbuch?especially given the chief sword's idea of what constituted an adequate reconnaissance. For that matter, Gadrial herself had said her new portal-sniffer was experimental. It could have given a false reading on the portal's size, or on the distance to it.

In short, there were any number of non-disastrous reasons the chief sword might have been delayed. Unfortunately, given what had already happened, Jasak found it difficult to feel optimistic.

The fact that Therman Ulthar and his Third Platoon had been ferried forward by dragon to support Thalmayr's asinine forward defense of Arcana's "sacred soil" only added to Jasak's worry … and anger. The more Jasak considered Thalmayr's stance, the less sense it made even from a tactical perspective. He suspected he wasn't completely alone on that opinion, either. Five Hundred Klian might have decided to support Thalmayr's decision, but unless Jasak was badly mistaken, the five hundred nursed more reservations about it than he was prepared to admit.

At least Klian had sent a request back to Fort Wyvern for reconnaissance gryphons. In a more perfect world, they would already have been moved forward to Fort Rycharn, given the fact that Rycharn was the staging point for the exploration of this universe's only known portal. But, like everything else this far out along the frontier, recon gryphons were in short supply, and Commander of Five Hundred Waysal Grantyl, Fort Wyvern's CO, had only four of them. He'd decided?for reasons best known to himself?that it was more important to retain them under his own direct control, and he was senior to Klian. It was true enough that the heavy forest on the far side of the swamp portal was exactly the worst sort of terrain for gryphon reconnaissance, which undoubtedly figured in Grantyl's decision, but Jasak prayed nightly that he would relent in the face of Klian's request. Suitable terrain or not, Jasak had men in harm's way.

Of course, he reminded himself bitterly, even if Grantyl did to change his mind, it would take over a week for Klian's request to reach Fort Wyvern and the gryphons to reach Fort Rycharn. And, he reminded himself even more bitterly, they weren't "his" men anymore. Not officially, anyway. That pompous, stiffnecked idiot Thalmayr had made that clear enough. But that didn't mean it was true; it simply meant there was no longer anything Jasak could do to protect them.

He'd had a brief conversation with Fifty Ulthar before the transport dragons moved Third Platoon back to the swamp portal. Military protocol had made it impossible for Jasak to discuss his reservations about Ulthar's new company commander frankly, but he and the fifty had known one another a long time. He was confident Ulthar had read between the lines of what propriety did allow him to say, and the fifty was the late, unlimited Shevan Garlath's antithesis. Jasak was confident Ulthar would do the best anyone in his position could. The problem, of course, was that there wasn't really all that much a platoon commander could do when his company commander had decided to insert his head into his anal orifice.

Jasak stood glowering eastward out the window of his assigned quarters across the beautiful tropical sea as the sun slid toward the western horizon. It should have been a soothing panorama, but at the moment, the softening shadows and the water's turquoise serenity only irritated him further. He hauled out his PC and checked the time, then snorted in mingled amusement and frustration. It would be dinnertime in another half-hour, which would kill at least another hour and a half or so. After which he could probably put his head back into Fort Rycharn's communications center, before he turned in, to see whether or not there'd been any word from Threbuch without seeming too anxiety ridden.

Not that he was fooling anyone, he knew.

He turned from the window, left his quarters, and headed across to the ones which had been assigned to Gadrial and their prisoners. The shortcut he followed took him past a rear corner of the armory, and his brisk stride paused suddenly?in surprise, more than anything else?as he heard a low, harsh voice hissing something vicious in Mythalan.

As the Duke of Garth Showma's son and heir, Jasak had been tutored in at least the basics of every major Arcanan language … including Mythalan. He'd made considerably less use of Mythalan than most of the others, over the years, but he'd enjoyed the opportunity to practice his language skills with Magister Halathyn. The magister had been gently amused at Jasak's atrocious accent, but at least their conversations had scoured much of the rust of disuse from Jasak's comprehension of Mythalan.

Now the hundred's eyes narrowed and his face darkened at what he was hearing.

"?fucking garthan! Are you really stupid enough to think that just because you've escaped your proper station in Mythal, you can put on grand airs out here and act like my equal?"

It took Jasak a second or two to recognize the voice. Then he placed it. It belonged to Lance Bok vos Hoven, a Gifted combat engineer who'd transferred into First Platoon along with Shevan Garlath when Garlath had arrived as Fifty Thaylar's temporary replacement. vos Hoven's job had been to recharge the storage units for the platoon's infantry-dragons, and Jasak had been a bit surprised to see his obviously Mythalan name on First Platoon's roster. Shakira were rare?very rare?among the Arcanan army's noncommissioned ranks, aside from a relatively small number who were also multhari, and who were then properly known as "vos and mul," not simply "vos." The fact that vos Hoven wasn't multhari had piqued Jasak's curiosity mildly, but the man had kept largely to himself, and Garlath, his platoon commander, had seemed satisfied with him. Indeed, Garlath had specifically requested vos Hoven's transfer from his original platoon when he himself was assigned to take over First Platoon.

Which, Jasak thought grimly now, should have been warning enough, right there!

vos Hoven had been wounded in the fighting, despite his position at the rear (which he'd shown absolutely no inclination to leave). He'd been hit through one shoulder by an obviously wild shot from one of those horrendous thunder weapons, which had done massive damage to his shoulder joint and explained his emergency evacuation. But from the strength of his voice, it was obvious the fort's medical staff had healed him quite nicely.

Unfortunately.

"Please, vos Hoven," another voice said, and Jasak's already simmering rage boiled up volcanically as he recognized Jugthar Sendahli's terrified, pleading tone. Sendahli had also been badly wounded?in his case, after crawling forward into the teeth of the enemy's fire to man one of the infantry-dragon's whose original crew had lain in slaughtered heaps about him while he fired. "I meant no disrespect, Mighty Lord! I just?"

"You just what?" vos Hoven snarled. "You just thought you'd keep the money for yourself, did you?"

"It's my pay, Mighty Lord!" the garthan trooper who'd distinguished himself so thoroughly cried in a low, anguished voice. "It's all my wife and son have to live on, and?"

Sendahli's voice broke off in the sound of a fist striking flesh, and Sir Jasak Olderhan erupted around the armory corner like a charging rhino.

"What the hells d'you think you're doing, vos Hoven?"

The shakira whirled with a guilty start, eyes wide, right fist still cocked for another blow. Then he jumped back, releasing his left-handed grip on the front of Sendahli's uniform. The garthan staggered, and Jasak's fury redoubled as he saw the blood flowing from Sendahli's nose and mouth, the bruises, and the split eyebrow. The blow Jasak had heard land obviously hadn't been the first one, and fear flickered across vos Hoven's face as he saw Jasak's expression. But then something else flashed through his eyes, and a sneer replaced the instant of fear.

"Administering discipline to the troops, Sir," he said.

The combination of his sneer and the scathing emphasis on the "Sir" told Jasak exactly what was going through vos Hoven's arrogant Mythalan mind. He obviously expected Jasak to be cashiered, and in the society from which vos Hoven sprang, that sort of disgrace would automatically discredit any accusations Jasak might make?especially against someone legally entitled to put that accursed "vos" into his name. But they weren't in Mythal. The shakira might well be right about Jasak's career prospects, but until and unless he was cashiered, Jasak was an officer of the Union of Arcana. And whatever might happen to his career, he was also the son of Thankhar and Sathmin Olderhan.

"Bullshit!" he snapped. "You just landed your lying ass in the brig, soldier! Report yourself under arrest to the fort master-at-arms right damned now!"

"What?" vos Hoven's jaw dropped. Then rage exploded behind his eyes. "How dare you? Do you have any idea who my family is?"

"What makes you think I give a flying fuck who your godsdamned family is?!" Jasak didn't think he'd ever been so furious in his entire life?not even with Shevan Garlath, and that took some doing. "You just go right on running your mouth, soldier! There's plenty of room on the charge sheet!"

"What charge sheet?" vos Hoven barked a contemptuous laugh. "Are you actually stupid enough to think my family would?"

Jasak took one long, furious stride that brought him chest-to-chest with the shorter, more slightly built shakira. vos Hoven's eyes widened. He stepped hastily back for several feet, until the armory wall stopped him, and a flare of fear stabbed abruptly through the contempt and fury of his expression.

"I don't care who your family is, you arrogant Mythalan prick," Jasak told him in a voice which had gone quiet, almost calm, as his white-lipped fury moved from the realm of fire into one of ice. "Not even a caste lord can protect you from the Articles of War."

"Articles of War?" vos Hoven repeated, as if they were words from a language he'd never heard. Then he shook himself. "On what charges?" he demanded.

"We'll start with physical assault of a fellow soldier," Jasak said coldly. "Then we'll add extortion and coercion for financial gain, and conduct prejudicial to good discipline. And we'll finish up?unless you want to go right on running your mouth and dig it still deeper?with insubordination and the defiance of an order from a commissioned officer. And under the circumstances, the court will probably tack 'in time of war' onto the list."

vos Hoven inhaled hard. Potentially, that last charge could put him in the dragon's mouth?that ancient euphemism for the execution of a soldier. At the very least, conviction would result in stockade time, dishonorable discharge . . . and the sort of disgrace no shakira caste lord would tolerate in a member of his clan. He stared at Jasak for a heartbeat or two, then straightened and shook himself.

"Sir, you misunderstand the situation completely," he said in a suddenly reasonable voice, all trace of defiance vanishing from his expression. "I realize how this situation could be misinterpreted, but with all due respect, I must protest the severity of your accusations. This trooper began by assaulting me. I may have overreacted in defending myself, but I never attempted to extort money from him!"

Jasak's lip curled with contempt, and he wondered if vos Hoven actually believed he could deceive the lie-detection spells which were part of any court-martial proceeding. The shakira looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and stepped away from the armory wall, moving to his left.

"I apologize for my initial tone," he continued, "but once I've explained, I'm sure?"

The combat knife seemed to materialize in his right hand even as he lunged forward.

Jasak's eyes snapped wide in disbelief, but his left arm swept out, striking the inside of vos Hoven's forearm to sweep the blade to one side. He twisted his torso simultaneously out of the original line of the thrust, and his right hand reached for the shakira. But vos Hoven fell away from him, evading his grip and circled quickly to his own right. Jasak's hand swept down to his own right hip, but it found nothing. He'd left his short sword in his quarters, since he was only headed for the dining hall, and he swore with silent, bitter venom at the memory. The shakira recognized his expression, and his lips drew back in a snarl, baring his teeth as he balanced himself for a second attack. He started forward again, but before he could move, the garthan he'd beaten lashed out.

It was the last thing vos Hoven had expected. His attention was totally focused on Jasak when Sendahli's right hand closed on his knife hand's wrist. The garthan stepped into him, his hand rising and circling to the left, pulling the shakira's wrist up and around the fulcrum of his own forearm. vos Hoven cried out in pain as the knife was forced up so sharply it almost punctured his own cheek, and then his fingers opened, and he dropped the weapon with another, harsher cry of pain, as Sendahli twisted harder, driving him to his knees. He crouched there, leaning to the left, left hand flat on the ground, as he tried desperately to relieve the white-hot pain in his right arm and shoulder.

Jasak straightened, glaring down at the immobilized shakira.

"I said there was still room on the charge sheet," he said flatly, "so we'll just add attempted murder of a superior officer."

The sound vos Hoven made was trapped between a snarl of fury and a whimper of anguish, and Jasak turned his attention to the garthan with the bleeding, bruised face.

"Thanks, Sendahli."

The trooper nodded silently, and his battered face was tight. Tight with fear, Jasak realized, and a fresh spasm of fury shot through him as he took in the other man's bruises, the eye that was already swelling shut. What he'd just done to vos Hoven was graphic proof that he'd allowed himself to be beaten.

"Stand him up," Jasak said, and reached into one of his cargo pockets as Sendahli hauled vos Hoven back to his feet. Jasak pulled out a small spell accumulator, then stepped close behind the shakira and yanked both the other man's hands behind him. He pressed vos Hoven's wrists together, then put the small block of sarkolis against them and pressed one of the several color-coded buttons on it.

vos Hoven grunted, shoulders twitching in fresh discomfort, which didn't bother Jasak a bit. The spells stored in the standard army-issue utility crystal were designed to cover a broad spectrum of possible needs, from fire-starting to signaling a reconnaissance flight as it passed overhead. The spell he'd selected to secure vos Hoven was intended as a general binding spell for things like bundles of gear or firewood, without any particular concern for how tightly it might bite. It wouldn't do vos Hoven any permanent damage?not for the brief time it would be needed?but it probably hurt like hell, Jasak reflected with grim satisfaction.

He spun vos Hoven back around to face him, then shoved the shakira's back against the armory wall once more.

"You just stand there," he said in a voice of ice. "You so much as move before I tell you to, and I'll see you buried under this fort."

vos Hoven stared back at him, mouth working, expression stunned. Jasak glared at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to Sendahli. The garthan winced as Jasak tilted his head gently back with a finger under his chin to examine his injuries, and the hundred shook his own head.

"I'm going to need your testimony in a minute, Sendahli," he said quietly. "The moment you've given it, though, I want you to report back to the infirmary. And before the healers fix you up again, tell them I want record-crystal images and a detailed written?and witnessed?report on the damages."

"Yes, Sir." Sendahli's reply came out in a near-whisper, and Jasak's mouth tightened as he tasted the garthan's shame. He knew, Jasak realized. Knew his company commander knew he'd let vos Hoven beat him.

"Jugthar." Jasak let the hand under Sendahli's chin move to grip the trooper's shoulder. "After we've taken your deposition and you've seen the healer, Five Hundred Klian will be presenting you with a commendation."

"Sir?" the Scout's dark eyes were confused and a little dazed.

"It's for bravery under fire," Jasak said. "What? You thought I hadn't noticed how you handled yourself out there? I'd already recommended you for promotion before we stumbled into combat. The way you performed after it all hit the fan only confirms my judgment, so you keep your head up, soldier. Despite what assholes like this may think?" he jerked his head sideways at vos Hoven "?you have nothing to be ashamed of, and a lot to be proud of. Do you hear me?"

The trooper who had escaped literal bondage in Mythal, blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. Then he nodded and met Jasak's eyes levelly.

"Yes, Sir," he said. "Thank you, Sir." Then he inhaled deeply. "It's been an honor serving under you, Sir. I'll never forget it."

Jasak squeezed his shoulder again, touched by the garthan's sincerity, then turned his icy stare back to vos Hoven.

"And now, Lance vos Hoven, let's go to discuss your conduct with Five Hundred Klian."

Murder flared in the shakira's eyes, but he turned and marched towards the commandant's office without offering further resistance. Jasak retrieved his knife from the dirt and followed him in icy silence, with Sendahli a pace behind him.

Jasak was bitterly certain that this, too, was his own fault. He'd known Garlath had brought vos Hoven with him. That should have been enough to make him look very carefully at the shakira?closely enough, at any rate, to recognize what the man was doing to Sendahli. On the other hand, he thought after a moment, it was entirely possible, even probable, that vos Hoven had waited to put the garthan "back in his place" until Jasak's departure on the furlough which had been cut short by Magister Halathyn's detection of the class seven portal.

Mythalans! Jasak snarled silently, his eyes hot on vos Hoven's back. The shakira caste was enough to give all the rest of Arcana's Gifted a bad name, but this one, at least, would never terrorize another garthan. No wonder Halathyn vos Dulainah had left Mythal in disgust!

Jasak had often wondered how Magister Halathyn had escaped the shakira's ingrained and cherished belief in their own superiority. He doubted anyone would ever know, and it didn't really matter, in the long run. However it had happened, the rest of Arcana had benefitted hugely from it, he reflected as he shoved vos Hoven through the office block' door. And, he admitted more grudgingly, as his mother had insisted for years, it served as graphic proof that not everyone born into the shakira caste deserved his contempt. Not that the Duchess of Garth Showma's own contempt for the shakira as a whole was one whit less blistering than her son's.

Five Hundred Klian's clerk's eyes widened when he saw the bound shakira and battered garthan … and the combat knife in Jasak's hand. The astonishment in his expression blanked abruptly at Jasak's terse explanation and request to see the commandant.

"Of course, Hundred," he said. "Just a moment, please."

He rose, knocked on the five hundred's office door, and disappeared through it for a few moments. Then he reemerged, holding the door open.

"The Five Hundred will see you right now, Sir," he said.

Jasak thanked him, then marched his prisoner into Klian's office.

"What's this all about, Hundred Olderhan?" the five hundred asked in a cold a voice. Then he glanced at the battered trooper whose commendation he'd just signed, and his eyes went bleak.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir," Jasak said as he laid vos Hoven's ten-inch combat knife on the commandant's desk, "but I believe we have a small problem here."

"What sort of problem?" Klian asked, and Jasak explained precisely what the nephew of a caste lord?one of the hundred or so most powerful men in Mythal?had just attempted to do with that knife. And what he'd been doing when Jasak interrupted him.

Five Hundred Klian's expression went from bleak to thunderous as the story came out. When Jasak reached the end of his own account, Klian directed half a dozen questions to Sendahli. The garthan's responses were subdued, obviously more than a little frightened, but clear, and by rights Klian's glare should have incinerated vos Hoven where he stood by the time Sendahli finished.

"I see," he said coldly, and looked back at Jasak. "I presume you wish to formally charge your prisoner, Hundred Olderhan?"

"I do, Sir." Jasak repeated the charges he'd already listed for vos Hoven.

"I'll certainly endorse them," Klian said grimly, and Jasak watched from the corner of one eye as the shakira finally began to wilt. It was incredible, he thought. vos Hoven had obviously thought, right up to the last moment, that Klian would quash the charges against him simply because of who he was.

"Since attempted murder is a capital charge, however," the five hundred continued coldly, "it must be heard before a formal court. I have neither the authority to convene such a court, nor sufficient qualified officers to form one. What I can?and will?do is endorse your charges, have this man brigged here at Fort Rycharn, and see to it that he is returned with you, under confinement, to Arcana to stand trial there."

Jasak was a bit surprised by Klian's last statement, and the commandant smiled bleakly.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hang him right here and now, Hundred," he said coldly. "And given what you and Trooper Sendahli have just told me, I have no doubt the charges against him will ultimately be sustained. However, the situation is complicated by what happened to First Platoon while this man was attached to it. Intelligence is going to want to talk to all of the survivors, I'm afraid."

A slight flicker of warning touched his icy eyes as they met Jasak's, and Jasak abruptly understood. vos Hoven had been present at the botched contact and massacre. Jasak was confident that Klian believed his own account of what had happened, but both he and the five hundred knew there was going to be a court of inquiry. There had to be one. And if it looked as if Jasak had used a court-martial to silence a potentially damaging witness …

Jasak's jaw clenched. That thought had never occurred to him, and it ought to have. He'd realized all along that vos Hoven would never recognize that he merited punishment. Nor would the shakira's powerful family?their minds simply didn't work that way. He didn't doubt for a moment that they would use every bit of influence they possessed, every trick, every distortion, that occurred to them to avert the disgrace vos Hoven's conviction would spill across them. And Sir Jasak Olderhan, as the agent of vos Hoven's destruction, would find himself with implacably bitter?and extraordinarily powerful?enemies. Exactly the sort of enemies an officer already facing a court of inquiry didn't need.

"I understand, Sir," he replied steadily, and Klian nodded with a tight, approving smile.

"Yes, I believe you do, Hundred," he said. Then he looked past Jasak to his clerk. "Summon the Master-at-Arms, Verayk," he said.

"Yes, Sir." The clerk disappeared, and Jasak glanced at Jugthar Sendahli. The garthan's eyes told him that Sendahli, too, knew what sort of enemies this affair was going to make Jasak, and that he was desperately sorry for adding to Jasak's troubles.

Can't be helped, Jasak thought, as philosophically as he could. It went with the territory, if a man was going to be worthy of the uniform he wore. Besides, Jasak's own connections were nothing to sneeze at. He'd deal with shakira caste lords when the time came; at the moment, he had another job to do.

He watched with grim satisfaction as Bok vos Hoven was marched out of Klian's office to the brig, and then personally escorted Sendahli to the infirmary. By the time they got there, the garthan trooper's shoulders had straightened and he was once again carrying himself like what he was, not what vos Hoven had tried to make him.

Jasak handed him over to the healers with a profound sense of satisfaction. If he'd accomplished nothing else in uniform, at least he'd salvaged the career of one damned fine soldier. Perhaps it wouldn't be the most noted epitaph a career could have, but given the circumstances, he was afraid they were going to need good soldiers badly.

He watched the healer examining Sendahli for a moment, then turned away, praying he was wrong as he headed back toward Gadrial's quarters to escort her to dinner, wondering?again?why Otwal Threbuch was late.