Modesitt, L.E. - Corean Chronicles 01 - Legacies

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Book Information:

Genre: Fantasy

Author: L.E. Modesitt Jr.

Name: Legacies

Series: Book One of The Corean Chronicles

Published: Hardback; October 2002

------------------------

Legacies

Book 1 of the Corean Chronicles

L.E. Modesitt Jr.

In the quiet of the early twilight of

late summer day, a woman sat in

a rocking chair under the eaves of the porch, facing east, rocking gently. Except

for the infant she nursed, she was alone, enjoying the clean evening air, air

swept of sand grit and dust by the unseasonal afternoon rain. So clear was the

silver-green sky that the still-sunlit Aerial Plateau stood out above the nearer

treeless rise that was Westridge, stood out so forcefully that it appeared yards

away rather than tens of vingts to the north and east.

She rocked slowly, looking down at her nursing son, a child already with dark

hair, more like deep gray than black. Through the open windows set in the heavy

stone walls, she could hear the occasional clatter of platters being replaced in

the cupboards, and the squeak of the hand pump.

The glittering and scattered light reflected from the quartz outcrop-pings on

the top edge of the distant and towering plateau died away as the sun dropped

farther. Before long, pinlights that were stars appeared, as did the small greenish

crescent that was the moon Asterta. The larger moon, Selena, had already set in

the west.

She brought the infant to her shoulder and burped him. "There… there, that's

a good boy, Alucius." Then she resettled herself and offered the other breast.

As she began to rock once more, a point of light appeared off the north end

of the porch, expanding into a winged feminine figure with iridescent green-

tinged silver wings. The nursing mother blinked, then turned her head slowly.

For several moments, she looked at the soarer, a graceful feminine figure

somewhere in size between an eight-year-old girl and a small young woman—

except for the spread wings of coruscating and shimmering light, which fanned

yards out from the soarer's body until it bathed both mother and infant.

The woman chanted softly,

'Soarer fair, soarer bright, only soarer in the night wish I may, wish I might

have this wish I wish tonight

…"

For a long moment after she had completed her wish, the woman watched.

The soarer's wings sparkled, their movement seemingly effortless, as she hung in

midair, in turn watching mother and child, less than twenty yards from the pair

on the porch. As suddenly as she had appeared, the soarer was gone, as was the

green radiance that had emanated from her.

Slowly, the woman murmured the old child's rhyme to herself.

'Londi's child is fair of face. Duadi's child knows his place. Tridi's child is wise

in years, but Quattri's must conquer fears. Quinti's daughter will prove strong,

while Sexdi's knows right from wrong. Septi's child is free and giving, but Octdi's

will work hard in living. Novdi's child must watch for woe, while Decdi's child has

far to go.

But the soarer's child praise the most, for he will rout the sanders' host, and

raise the lost banners high under the green and silver sky."

She looked beyond the north end of the porch once more, but there was no

sign that the soarer had ever been there.

Within moments, the door to the house opened, and a lean man stepped

outside, moving near-silently toward the woman in the rocking chair. "I thought I

saw a light-torch out here. Did someone ride up?"

'No…" She shifted the infant and added, "There was a soarer here, Ellus."

'A soarer?"

'She was out there, just beyond where you put the snow fence last winter.

She hovered there and looked at us, and then she left."

'Are you sure, Lucenda?" Ellus's voice was gentle, but not quite believing.

'I'm quite sure. I don't imagine what's not there."

Ellus laughed, warmly. "I've learned that." After a moment, he added,

"They're supposed to be good luck for an infant."

'I know. I made a wish."

'What did you wish for?"

'I can't say. It won't come true, and I want it to come true for Alucius."

'That's just a superstition."

Lucenda smiled. "Probably it is, but let me have it."

He bent over and kissed her forehead. "For him, as well as for you."

Then he pulled over the bench and sat down beside her as the evening

darkened into night.

In the warm sun of a clear harvest morning, five people stood beside

the stable door, two men, two women, and a small boy. The child had short-

cropped hair that was a dark gray, rather than true black, and he clutched the

hand of the younger woman and looked up at the man who wore the black-and-

green uniform of the Iron Valley Militia. Tied to the post outside the stable were

a roan, saddled, and a gray mare. The gray tied beside the roan had no saddle,

but a harness and two leather bags of provisions across its back.

'Father?" offered the boy.

The uniformed man bent down and scooped up the child, holding him against

his shoulder so that their faces were but handspans apart. "You'll be a good boy

for Mother, won't you, Alucius?"

'Yes, Father." His words were carefully articulated.

'He's always good," offered the older woman who stood back from the

couple.

'You'd say that anyway, Veryl," countered the older man. "I might," Veryl

responded with a smile, "but Alucius is good. Lu-cenda knows that."

'You'll be careful, Ellus," said Lucenda. "You will, won't you?" "He'll be fine,"

boomed the older man. "Best officer in all Iron Valley. Just going after brigands,

that's all. Not like the border wars with the Lanachronans when I was his age.

They had Talent-wielders. Not very good, but they did call out sanders—"

'That was then, Royalt," Veryl pointed out. "You and Ellus can compare

stories when he comes back. Reillies, sanders, Talent-wielders… whatever you

want."

The three other adults smiled at the dryness of her tone. Ellus handed Alucius

back to Lucenda, then bent forward and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek.

"You two be good. I shouldn't be gone that long."

Alucius squirmed, and Lucenda set him down beside her, and threw her arms

around her husband, holding him tightly.

Alucius looked up at the pair, embracing, then to the corral not two yards

from where he stood. His eyes met the black-rimmed red orbs of the lead

nightram, and he gently let go of his mother's trousers, taking one step, then

another toward the black-wooled ram with the red eyes and sharp horns.

'Alucius!" Lucenda cried, lunging toward her son. "Let him go," came Royalt's

voice. "Best we see now. He's protected by the fence. Rams don't hurt children,

unless the children hit them, and Alucius won't do that."

Lucenda glanced from Alucius to the fence, and to the nightram on the far

side of the four rails. Then she looked to Ellus. His lips were tight, his eyes fixed

on their son.

In the silence that had settled across the stead, Alucius took three more

steps, until his chest was against the second railing. The nightram stepped

forward and lowered his head, until his eyes focused on the child. The curled and

knife-pointed black horns glittered, reflecting the sun from their lethal

smoothness, standing out from the light-absorbing all-black face, and from the

black fleece that was so deep in color that the ram was darker than any night.

Even the sharp-edged hoofs were night-black.

The boy smiled at the nightram, then reached out with his left hand and

touched the beast's jaw, fingertips from the sharp teeth. "Good! Good ram."

For a long moment, the nightram's eyes took in Alucius. Then the ram slowly

lowered himself to the ground, so that his eyes were level with those of the boy.

Alucius smiled. "He's a good ram."

'Yes, he is." Lucenda's voice was strained.

'He likes me."

'I'm sure he does."

Deliberately, slowly, Alucius lifted his hand away from the nightram. "You be

good, ram." He stepped away from the railing. The ram slowly rose, lifting his

head and sharp horns, but only watched as the boy stepped toward his mother.

'He was a good ram."

Lucenda swept Alucius up into her arms, hanging on tightly. "Yes, he was.

But you must be careful with the nightsheep."

'I was careful."

The ram tilted his head, before turning and walking toward the far side of the

corral.

'He'll be a herder, for sure, Ellus." The older and broad-shouldered Royalt

laughed. "He's already got a way with them. He'll be ready to take the flock with

us when you get back."

'That's good to know—and so young, yet." Ellus smiled and straightened the

green and black tunic. The smile faded as he looked at Lucenda and Alucius. He

stepped over to them and hugged both of them for a moment. Then he looked

at Alucius, his face serious. "You'll take care of your mother while I'm gone,

won't you?"

Alucius nodded.

'Good." Ellus smiled once more. "I'll be back before long. Sure as there are

five seasons, I'll be back."

'I'll be here," Lucenda replied.

Still holding the smile, Ellus untied the roan and mounted, leading the gray as

he rode down the lane toward Iron Stem. He turned in the saddle and waved as

he passed the end of the outermost section of the southernmost corral.

The older man and woman took several steps back toward the main house,

before stopping and watching the rider. The younger woman stood by a fence

post, ignoring the nightram on the other side, tears streaming down her face.

The fingers holding her son's hand did not loosen as she sobbed.

Alucius looked at the departing rider. "Father…"

'He'll be back," Lucenda managed. "He will be."

Alucius watched until his father was out of sight. To the south, above the

high road that lay beyond vision, an eagle circled upward into the open expanse

of silver-green sky, a black dot that also vanished.

Outside, the evening was darkening, with neither moon to offer

illumination. Inside the second lambing crib, with only a small, single-crystal

light-torch to dispel the blackness, Alucius watched. His mother held a bottle

filled with goat's milk, feeding the small nightlamb. The lamb sucked greedily for

a short time, then stopped, lowering his head slowly.

'You have to drink more," Lucenda told the lamb gently. "It doesn't taste

right, but you have to drink it." She stroked the lamb.

'He doesn't like the sand. I wouldn't like sand in what I drank," Alucius said

solemnly.

'It isn't sand. It's quartz. It's powdered as fine as we can make it with the

crusher."

'But why?" Alucius gave a small frown.

'The ewes have it in their milk. They get it from the quarasote shoots. So we

have to put it in the goat's milk so the lamb will grow strong."

Alucius could sense the doubt in his mother. "He's very sick, isn't he?"

'He isn't as strong as he should be. It's hard for lambs who lose their

mothers. The other ewes don't have enough milk for two. Sometimes, they don't

have enough for one." Lucenda tendered the bottle, and the lamb sucked for a

time, but the amount of milk left in the bottle remained almost the same.

'He doesn't feel good," Alucius said. "He's tired."

'He has to eat, or he won't get well," Lucenda said evenly.

'Will he die?"

'He might."

Alucius sensed the concern in his mother's words, and the darkness behind

them. He looked at the lamb, then sat down on the old horse blanket beside the

animal. Slowly, he reached out and drew the small creature to him, his arms

around the lamb's neck.

The lamb bleated, then seemed to relax, looking up at Lucenda. Alucius

waited.

She offered the bottle once more.

Alucius held the lamb until the bottle was empty.

Lucenda looked to her son. "How is he?"

'He's tired. He'll be better."

'He made a mess of you," Lucenda said.

'I'll ask Grandma'am how to wash it off." Alucius yawned and lay down on the

blanket next to the lamb. "I'm staying here. He needs me. He'll be better."

'For a while, dear."

'All night. He'll get well. You'll see. He will."

'If you say so, Alucius."

'I just know he'll get stronger." The child's treble voice held absolute

conviction. He yawned again, and then again. Before long, his eyes closed. So

did those of the lamb.

Lucenda looked at the sleeping child and the sleeping lamb. A faint smile

crossed her lips.

The wind of late fall whistled around the dwelling, but the warmth

from the big iron stove in the main room had infused the front parlor as well, as

had the heat from the kitchen, with the associated smells of baking apples,

biscuits, and mutton. Because it was Decdi, when Royalt did not graze the

nightsheep, the older man sat behind the table desk, studying the black

leatherbound ledger. He dipped the iron pen into the inkwell and added several

figures to the column of figures. Then, with a satisfied half-smile, he swished the

pen in the cleaning bowl, wiped it gently with a scrap of cloth and set it in its

stand. After closing the ledger, he stood and put it on the top shelf of the

bookcase. As he lowered his hand, his sleeve slipped back over his herder's

wristguard, a seamless band of silver, with a strip of black crystal in the center.

Alucius watched from the leather hassock by the bookcase, his eyes on the

herders' wristguard for a long moment. While chores still had to be done on

Decdi, the day ending the week seemed special, perhaps because there was time

for the adults to talk, and Alucius could listen, and no one urged him on to the

next chore.

'Could I play a game of leschec with you, Grandfather?" asked Alucius. "A

short one before supper, if you wouldn't mind?"

'You finished your lessons?"

'Yes, sir." Alucius pointed to the lesson book on the one shelf that was his,

and that held his learning books as well. "Do you want to look at them?"

'You say they're done, they're done." Royalt leaned forward and offered a

wide smile. "You've been watching us, haven't you?"

'Yes, sir." Alucius did not move from the hassock.

'Supper'll be ready before long." There was a twinkle in Royalt's eyes as he

watched his grandson. "We're having an apple pie. You can smell it."

'I know. I helped mother pick the best baskets at market. This afternoon I

cored the apples and sliced them."

The herder frowned slightly. "How did you pick the apples?"

'I was careful. I just said some baskets looked good." Alucius put both

slippered feet on the polished wooden floor. "You said I had to be careful."

'I did. A good herder has some of the Talent, and most people are not

comfortable with it. They especially don't like children with it."

'I was careful," Alucius said again.

'I'm sure you were, boy." Royalt grinned. "You think you can beat me?"

'Probably not yet," Alucius replied. "I can't see far enough ahead."

'None of us can, boy. We'd always like to see farther than we can. That's

being human." Royalt took the board from the shelf and set it on the table,

followed by the plain lorken box that held the pieces.

Alucius stood and pulled the hassock to the side of the table opposite his

grandsire. Then he knelt on the hassock.

'You want black or green?" asked Royalt.

'Don't we choose?"

Royalt laughed. "You pick. I'll choose."

The boy took two of the footwarriors, one green and one black, and then

lowered his hands below the table, switching the pieces between hands several

times before lifting both hands, backs up, and presenting them to his

grandfather. Royalt touched Alucius's right hand. The boy turned his hand over,

opening it and showing the black piece. Then he turned his left hand and

displayed the green footwarrior.

'Black it is."

Alucius quickly set up the pieces, beginning with the foot warriors in the first

row, and ending with the soarer queen and sander king.

'Do you have any questions before we start?" asked Royalt.

'No, sir… except why is the soarer a woman and the most powerful? Sanders

are powerful, too, and they kill nightsheep. The soarers don't." He paused. "Do

they?"

'No, the soarers don't." The older man laughed. "I can't tell you why the

soarer is the most powerful piece. It's always been that way."

Alucius waited for his grandfather's move. Not surprisingly, it was the fourth

footwarrior, two squares forward. Alucius matched the move, so that the two

blocked each other. His grandfather moved the pteridon out, and Alucius

countered by moving his fifth footwarrior a single square forward.

By several more moves, Royalt was smiling. "You have been watching. You're

playing like your mother, but that last move was like Wor-lin's."

Royalt attacked, taking Alucius's lesser alector, but losing a pteridon, and a

footwarrior, before capturing the boy's greater alector, at the cost of the other

pteridon.

'Supper's ready!" called Lucenda from the main room.

'We can finish after supper," Royalt suggested.

Alucius studied the board before looking at his grandfather. "No, sir. You'll

win."

'I might not."

'You should win," Alucius said. "But could we play another tomorrow?"

'I think I could manage that, if I'm not late bringing in the flock." Royalt

stood. "Before long, you'll be besting me." Royalt laughed. "Time to wash up,

boy."

Alucius followed Royalt to the washroom off the kitchen where Roy-alt took

the lever of the hand pump and put it through several cycles, until the chill water

was flowing into the basin. Alucius waited and then took his turn, before

returning to the kitchen.

Royalt sat at the head of the table, at the only chair with arms, facing into

the kitchen, while Veryl sat at his left, closest to the serving table. Lucenda set a

wide platter of mutton—from a town sheep bought the week before—on the

table, and then seated herself at the end of the table, with Alucius on her left.

Veryl cleared her throat gently, and the other three bowed their heads.

'In the name of the One Who Is, may our food be blessed and our lives as

well. And blessed be the lives of both the deserving and the undeserving that

both may strive to do good in the world and beyond." Veryl smiled and looked

up, glancing at Royalt.

The herder returned the smile, and then speared a slab of the mutton and

set it on his wife's platter before serving himself and passing the platter to Veryl,

who in turn passed it to Lucenda. Lucenda served Alucius and herself. The

gladbeans, doused and lightly fried in sweet oil, followed. Alucius took one

biscuit after his grandfather passed the basket to him.

'You can have two," offered Veryl. "You're a growing boy, and there's more

than enough. We got some of the best honey from Dactar last week."

Alucius grinned. "Thank you, Grandma'am." He knew about the honey,

having already snitched the smallest of samples several times during the week.

'Of course," his grandmother continued, "there isn't quite so much honey as

there might have been."

Alucius flushed.

Lucenda shook her head, in what Alucius knew was mock-disapproval—or

almost mock-disapproval.

'It was awfully good," Alucius admitted, "and I only had a little."

At the end of the table, Royalt coughed to smother a smile.

'You might have asked," suggested Lucenda.

'You would have said no."

'Sometimes that happens," his mother replied. "We can't always have what

we want. You know that. Get too greedy, and you might get a Legacy of the

Duarches."

'Yes, ma'am." Alucius wasn't too sure what that meant, but it didn't sound

good.

After the momentary silence, Royalt spoke. "Been wondering if we'll be

having a long and cold winter this year." He took another slab of mutton, and

ladled gravy over it.

'You think so, dear?" asked Veryl.

'Haven't seen a sander in near-on a month. Not many sandwolves, either. Or

even scrats. Saterl says the sandwolves have moved closer to the town, that

folks there are losing dogs, and the wolves are going after food sheep. They all

forget that the wolves don't leave a scent, and that food sheep don't sense

them. Most times, sandwolves don't like town sheep, unless they're starving. Last

time that happened this early in the fall was in the big winter, fifteen-sixteen

years back." He took a swallow of the weak amber ale. "Wind's colder early,

too."

'Do you think we should lay in another town sheep or two in the holding

barn?"

'Three, maybe. And some of the big sacks of dried beans. We've got the

coins."

Alucius hoped that his grandfather happened to be mistaken, because Alucius

hated the beans. But he knew that Royalt had a feel for weather, and his own

feelings had already told him it was going to be cold.

'And some of the dried maize," suggested Lucenda.

'You never did care much for the beans, did you, dear?" asked Veryl.

'You know that, Mother." Lucenda grinned. "Neither does Alucius. One of my

faults that has been passed on to him."

'One of your few faults," suggested Royalt. "If you'd pass the biscuits,

Alucius?"

Alucius looked around the table, at the three adults, and took another biscuit,

smiling, before handing the basket back to his grandsire.

The Duarchy of Corus messed all the lands with peace and

prosperity, for generation upon generation, from the times of the Forerunners

onward. Never was there so fair a realm, so just a world, and so blessed the

peoples of a world.

The Myrmidons of Duality and their pteridons controlled the heavens, and

they conveyed dispatches, orders, and messages from one end of Corus to the

other, from the northern heights of Blackstear to the warm waters of Southgate,

from Alustre in the east to mighty Elcien in the west, all so that the peoples of

the Duarchy might prosper, and that their children and their children's children

might do so as well.

Likewise, the Alectors of Justice and the Recorders of Deeds made sure that

evil gained no foothold in any city, not even in the courts and chambers of the

Duarches, nor in the meanest of city quarters, for without justice, nothing

endures for long.

The Engineers of Faitel created the mighty eternastone highroads that

crossed Corus from west to east, and south to north, excepting only the Aerial

Plateau and the Anvils of Hel. Upon these highways moved all manner of goods

and travelers, each secure in the knowledge that all were safe from any manner

of harm.

Even the oceans fell under the sway of the Duarchy, with the fleets of the

Duadmiralty built of dolphin ships so swift and fierce that no pirate and no

brigand could contest or escape them, and the ways of the seas became as

highways upon the waters, bringing goods and travelers to all manner of places.

The sun shined its favors out of a silver-green sky and blessed the Duarchy

and all its peoples through all five seasons of each year, every year.

Then came the Cataclysm, and the old ways and webs weakened, and the

world changed for all time…

—

History of Corus

[fragment recovered from the Blue Tower at Hafin]

Mist sifted from the clouds overhead, and fog covered most of

Westridge, bringing with it a faintly acrid scent of damp quarasote mixed with

that of nightsheep dung. The supply wagon stood outside the stead stable.

Wearing his oiled leathers and a battered brown felt hat, Royalt held the leads to

the dray horses. He sat on the left side of the wagon. Beside him, slightly more

to the middle of the wagon seat, was Alucius, who wore an oiled leather cloak

over his nightsheep jacket.

'It's miserable weather to go to town." Lucenda stood bareheaded under the

slight overhang of the stable eaves.

'Best weather to go," replied Royalt. "We don't miss grazing time. We need

the salt, and the flour. Your mother's not up to taking the team…"

Alucius sensed that his grandma'am might never be up to taking the team.

Something about her leg hadn't healed right. He felt that he should have been

able to do something. Not that he hadn't tried… when no one was paying

attention. Sometimes, she felt better, but it never lasted.

Lucenda looked at her son under the oiled leather cloak that was too big for

him. Alucius returned the gaze with a calm smile.

'Alucius will be fine. He needs to get off the stead more, daughter."

'I suppose he should," Lucenda replied. "You be good for your grandfather,

Alucius."

'Yes, Mother." Alucius smiled. "I'll be good."

Lucenda flushed. "I don't know why I say that. You're always good."

Royalt flicked the reins, and the pair of dun horses moved forward. "Should

be back around supper time."

Neither the man nor the boy spoke until the wagon was on the narrow track

that led southwest, through the treeless expanse of low and barely rolling rises,

covered with scattered quarasote, toward the main road.

'You take it to heart, don't you, boy?"

'Take what?" Alucius wasn't sure he understood.

Royalt laughed. "I could be wrong. Let me ask you something. Do you

remember what your father said before he left?"

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