It was late morning by the time Horyse, accompanied by Kern and Jessil, clattered across the cobblestones of Last Bridge and reined his horse to a halt on the southern bank. Horyse made the complex bird-call that meant 'all clear'; and immediately, the khaki-clad figures of an Ancelstierran patrol emerged from the scrub either side of the Wallway. Kern and Jessil looked on in some amusement. Old Kingdom patrols tended to move openly, relying on Charter Magic to give ample warning of any danger. They regarded the Ancelstierran obsession with stealth and camouflage a something of a strange, foreign custom.
Horyse recognised Curran at the patrol's head; his sergeant's stripes now surmounted by the Ancelstierran crest, denoting a promotion to colour sergeant. With him was Anshye, now sporting corporal's stripes and a forehead Charter mark. Horyse dismounted, handing his reins to Kern; and he and Curran approached one another with fingers outstretched. They tested one another's Charter Marks, then exchanged a more conventional Ancelstierran salute.
"Good to see you, Colour Sergeant," said Horyse. "Congratulations on your promotion. You too, Corporal Anshye."
It was good to see them. Horyse had found his time at Barhedrin enjoyable and fascinating, but sometimes he had longed for the familiar routine of the Ancelstierran Army, and he had looked forward with great anticipation to his occasional meetings with Ancelstierran patrols. He exchanged farewells with Kern and Jessil. As they turned to leave, Jessil called out to them.
"You should travel back by the Wallway. There are no enemies between here and the Crossing Point, and Captain Karim said to tell you that the Clayr Saw you travel that way. Farewell, friend, and may the Charter protect you." Jessil and Kern clattered away, Kern leading the horse that Horyse had been riding. He turned to Curran.
"What do you think, Colour Sarn't?"
"Well, sir, I've felt no danger between here and the Crossing Point, nor has Anshye. Besides, if the Clayr Saw us…"
"Very good, the Wallway it is then."
The patrol moved off at a pace that was comparatively easy and allowed for talking, especially given that they would travel much faster on the Wallway and would reach the Crossing Point well before sundown.
"Well, Colour Sarn't, what's new since I left?" Horyse asked, falling into step with Curran.
"Much, sir," replied Curran. "Anshye here made the scouts, and so did young Rowland. Mr Tindall's been promoted to major, and not before time. And we've got a new colonel."
Horyse was curious to know more, but when he tried to question Curran about the new CO, the other became evasive, changing the subject to idle gossip. Horyse decided that the new CO must be another old dugout like McGovern; and that Curran was avoiding the subject so as not to be disrespectful.
"What about Hedge?" he asked eventually.
"Not a sniff of him, sir," answered Curran, with a snort of disgust. "His details have been passed to every army post and police station in Ancelstierre, and a warrant put out for his immediate arrest." Horyse nodded; Karim had made sure that the same had been done in the Old Kingdom. "I doubt if it will do any good," continued Curran. "He won't be daft enough to try and come through the Crossing Point."
"At least that means he's stuck in the Old Kingdom," Horyse pointed out. Curran frowned.
"He may be able to cross somewhere else, especially if he's in league with one of the Greater Dead. Major Tindall isn't ruling anything out, nor is the new CO."
It was still well before sunset when they came to the Crossing Point and were escorted in. Major Tindall himself had come out to lead the Crossing Party, and he and Horyse greeted each other warmly. Back on the parade ground at HQ, Tindall dismissed the patrol and turned to Horyse.
"The new CO wants you to report to him straight away."
Horyse looked down at his uniform. He had done his best to maintain it to the required standard, but it had not been easy. His trousers, shirt and tie had fallen apart within a day of his arrival at Barhedrin. In their place he wore woollen breeches, padded with leather at the knees and seat, in a brownish-green that was the closest the Barhedrin tailor had to Ancelstierran khaki. A collarless linen shirt, and a neckerchief of green cotton completed the ensemble. His hand-stitched tunic had fared somewhat better; but the insignia were irreparably tarnished. He had glued his cap together as best he could but it was shapeless and battered. At least his new leather jerkin hid some of the worst of the damage.
"I ought to change first," he said. "I'm not really in a fit state to be seen by the CO." Tindall shook his head, firmly.
"Immediately you get in were my orders. And he's not a man to argue with. I'll see you in the mess later for a drink."
It was with some trepidation that Horyse rapped on the CO's door and obeyed the summons to come in. The light of the setting sun was shining directly through the window into his eyes as he saluted and reported-as-ordered-sir, meaning that he could not clearly see the figure behind the desk. Then the man stood and came round the desk, hand outstretched.
"Mr Horyse," he said warmly. "it's good to see you."
"Major Fazackerly!" exclaimed Horyse. "Sorry, Colonel Fazackerly, sir."
"Welcome back, Sam." Fazackerly held out his right hand, first two fingers extended, the invitation to test what Horyse now knew was his Charter mark. He did so, and felt the comforting, never ending flow of the Charter surround him as the Colonel tested his own mark.
Over mugs of tea, the new colonel updated Horyse on recent events. Much of what he said, Horyse had already learned from Curran, but the Colonel was able to give more details. In particular, he spoke about the importance of hunting for Hedge.
"Trouble is, the shiny bums down in Corvere don't believe that anyone can cross the Wall without coming through here. But if Hedge is in league with a Free Magic being, or one of the Greater Dead, it might be possible for him to cross. Especially in the west, if he came across into the deserted country between Forwin Mill and the Western Light."
Horyse began to tell Fazackerly what Karim had told him about Chlorr of the Mask, but was interrupted by an urgent sounding knock at the door. Without waiting to be told to come in, the door crashed open and a breathless looking corporal came to attention and saluted.
"Major Collins' compliments, sir, and would you come at once. Sergeant Lomax has turned up on pay parade, along with Privates Gleeson and Smith 73."
Fazackerly ran a hand through his hair.
"Not again," he groaned, picking up his cap and buckling on his sword belt. Horyse looked at him quizzically.
"What is it, sir?" he asked.
"Come with me, and you'll see."
Horyse followed the colonel out onto the parade ground and saw what seemed, at first, to be a normal pay parade. D-company were lined up by platoons, officers and NCOs to the front, ready to be called into the pay office. Horyse saw that as well as Major Collins, Tindall had arrived, along with Curran, Anshye and several other Charter mages of the Scouts.
"Alright, Company Sarn't Major, fall them out," Fazackerly told the CSM. "Charter mages, draw your swords." Horyse assumed that this meant him also, and drew his falchion, to a low whistle of admiration from Curran.
"Sergeant Lomax! Private Gleeson! Private Smith '73! Five paces forward… HARCH" bellowed the CSM; and three soldiers duly marched out of the ranks. Except, Horyse realised with a shock, they were not soldiers; but Dead Hands, clad in the rags of Ancelstierran uniforms.
"They were killed three nights ago in an attack," said Fazackerly, grimly. "This has been happening more and more, recently." He turned to the assembled Charter Mages. "Curran, Anshye, Woods. Take one each. Marks for rest and sleep. Mr Horyse, I take it you can perform the funeral rites? Very well. You take Gleeson. Mr Tindall, you take Smith '73 and I'll take Sarn't Lomax. When the marks for sleep are on them, perform the rite."
Anshye approached the man who had once been Private Gleeson, golden charter marks already forming at the fingers of his right hand. Gently he laid the marks on Gleeson's eyes; and the Dead Hand lay down quietly on the ground, arms crossed across its chest. Briefly, Horyse quailed at the thought of performing the funeral rites on someone still apparently alive. Then he felt Anshye's hand on his shoulder, ready to reinforce his power.
"Remember, sir, he's dead already," Anshye whispered. Horyse stretched his sword towards the body and called into being the marks for cleansing, purity and rest.
"One moment, sir," Anshye said, and reached down and took the man's identity tags before putting his hand back on Horyse' shoulder. "Now, sir!"
Horyse felt Anshye's power flow into him, but he did not need it. The marks flowed from his swordpoint, straight and true. Charter flames erupted, consuming the body, as D-company's bugler began to sound the Last Post.
"Farewell, Private Gleeson," whispered Horyse. "Go swiftly beyond the Ninth Gate. I did not know you, but you fought well and faithfully, and have earned your rest."
Later, Horyse sat in the Colonel's office with Fazackerly, Tindall and Collins, who had left the CSM to complete his interrupted pay parade. Fazackerly walked over to a table that held decanter and glasses.
"Sun's over the yardarm," he said, pouring out generous measures. Horyse sipped his gratefully; he had missed Anclestierran whisky.
"That's the third time in a week, sir," said Tindall.
"I know," Fazackerly answered in a grim tone. Turning to Horyse, he began to explain. "It started a couple of weeks ago. Dead soldiers turning up on parade. Some of them from years ago." He paused, then addressed all three. "New standing orders, effective immediately. Dead are to be recovered whenever possible, and the burial rite performed by a Charter Mage of at least the second rank. If that's not possible, try to perform the rite in the field."
"Covere won't like it, sir," Collins said, with a frown.
"Too bad," answered Fazackerly. "Better to ask forgiveness than permission."
"That'll only help up to a point, sir," said Tindall. "There's about ten years' accumulation of dead in no-man's land, in front of the Crossing Point. We need to move the Crossing Point."
"Of course we do," said Fazackerly, "and I've made the case until I'm blue in the face. But the bean counters in Corvere won't budge, so we've got to live with it. Mr Horyse,"
"Sir?"
"Major Tindall will be assuming overall command of the Scouts. I thought about giving you B Company, but quite frankly, that would be wasting a Charter Mage of your power and skill. So, you will be Mr Tindall's second-in-command. However, I also want you to select and train a section of the strongest Charter Mages, up to ten of them, and prepare them for any special tasks that may occur. In particular, to respond to any reported sightings of Hedge. You will also continue to liaise closely with Captain Karim, and to lead patrols into the Old Kingdom. And," he added, "continue to develop your own skill in Charter magic."
"Yes, sir!" Horyse was unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice. How things had changed, he realised. A few short months ago, he would have been very disappointed to hear that he had been considered for command of a company and passed over. Now, he felt only excitement at the task he had been given.
"Liase with Major Tindall as to who you can have," said Fazackerly. Tindall grinned.
"Anyone you like, except Curran. I need him as Acting RSM of the Scouts."
"Anshye and Rowland, for starters," he answered with a grin of his own.
"Now, Mr Horyse," said the colonel, "please tell us in full what Karim told you about Last Bridge, and anything else of note."
Horyse told the story he had heard from Karim, and about the Clayr's message and gifts. The other officers examined sword, jerkin, helmet and shield with interest and admiration.
"Wish we had this man Culver here," Collins remarked, and Horyse promised to teach Staff Sergeant Griggs and the other armourers what he had managed to learn of weapon crafting.
"Based on your account," Fazackerly said, "I am recommending Razoul and Anshye for the Gallantry Medal. Lance Corporal Lockley too. And I'll recommend Rowland, and the rest of Lockley's patrol, for Mentions in Dispatches." Then he frowned. "If we are lucky, Razoul, Anshye and Lockley might get Mentions. I'm afraid that Covere won't understand, or won't believe, the citations. I can but try."
Fazackerly dismissed the others, but motioned to Horyse to stay.
"This business with citizenship, and freedom to travel in the Old Kingdom. Could be very useful to us. At any rate, it's a huge honour."
"I'll do my best to be worthy of it, sir," Horyse answered.
"I know you will. You've done well here. I always knew you'd do well on the Perimeter. There is one thing that troubles me, though."
"What's that, sir?" Horyse asked, with a twinge of apprehension.
"Just that, based on what you and others have told me, I do not think you will ever be able to be posted away from the Perimeter. Your connection to the Charter is so strong that I very much doubt whether you will be able to travel much further than Bain or perhaps Wyverly, except for fairly short periods. Certainly, I believe that a posting back to Corvere or the Frontier is out of the question. I'm sorry, old chap."
"It's alright, sir," Horyse answered with a smile. "I've known that for a long time. Karim told me as much. But even before Last Bridge, I felt as though this was where I was meant to be."
"That's alright then," said Fazackerly, with relief. "Though Bob Quartermain is going to be a bit fed up. He had his eye on you for the Rangers." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a cardboard box. "Since your posting here is now pretty much permanent, I am authorised to offer you an official transfer from the Arquebusiers to the Scouts. These are the insignia, we get them hand-made by a metalsmith in Bain so they can survive in the Old Kingdom."
"Thank you, sir, it's an honour to accept," Horyse answered.