Soarer's Choice: The Sixth Book of the Corean Chronicles - Softcover

Modesitt Jr., L. E.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0765355590 ISBN 13: 9780765355591

Publisher: Tor Science Fiction, 2007

Synopsis

L. E. Modesitt, Jr., author of the bestselling Saga of Recluce fantasy series, opens the door into a marvelous new world.

Millennia ago, a magical disaster caused the fall of a great worldwide civilization, the end of a golden age. New civilizations have fought their way up from the ancient destruction and chaos, knowing little of the lost world that preceded them or the details of its fall. Corus today is a world of contending countries, of humans, but also of strange animals and supernatural creatures. It is a place of magical powers, and of a few people who are talented enough to use them.

The time is at hand for the great move, for Corus to be abandoned by the civilizing forces of the government of Alectors. Dainyl and Mykel are trying to hold everything together as all the systems on Corus are failing. But the mysterious Ancients, the Soarers, may hold a powerful and destructive trump card.

The Corean Chronicles
Legacies
Darknesses
Scepters
Alector’s Choice
Cadmian’s Choice
Soarer’s Choice
The Lord-Protector’s Daughter
Lady-Protector

Other series by this author:
The Saga of Recluce
Imager Portfolio
The Spellsong Cycle
The Ghost Books
The Ecolitan Matter

About this title

About the Author

L. E. Modesitt, Jr., is the bestselling author of the fantasy series The Saga of Recluce, Corean Chronicles, and the Imager Portfolio. His science fiction includes Adiamante, the Ecolitan novels, the Forever Hero Trilogy, and Archform: Beauty. Besides a writer, Modesitt has been a U.S. Navy pilot, a director of research for a political campaign, legislative assistant and staff director for a U.S. Congressman, Director of Legislation and Congressional Relations for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, a consultant on environmental, regulatory, and communications issues, and a college lecturer. He lives in Cedar City, Utah.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One
Dainyl sat behind the wide desk in the large study in headquarters. On the desk were stacks of reports. To his left on the polished wood was a shorter stack—the immediate orders he had written for the Myrmidons in an effort to undo the worst of his predecessor’s plotting. Outside, the morning sunlight of late harvest warmed the courtyard and the blue-winged pteridons of First Company—those that were not flying dispatches and undertaking other duties. The solid granite of the courtyard and the walls sparkled in the bright sun, clean and crisp.

He’d permanently reassigned the Seventh Company of Myrmidons to Tempre from Dulka to keep them from being suborned by Quivaryt, the regional alector in Dulka, and clearly the tool of Brekylt, the Alector of the East in Alustre. After that had come the cover letter forwarding copies of Dainyl’s appointment as marshal to each of the eight Myrmidon companies spread across Corus. Beside those lay the draft of his report on what he had done to quash the “revolt” in Hyalt and Tempre. Of course, he couldn’t tell the entire story, because his superior, the High Alector of Justice, the most honorable Zelyert, had firmly ordered him to treat the matter as a local revolt, rather than the first thrust of a conspiracy masterminded by Brekylt. To make matters worse, and more delicate, Dainyl suspected that Brekylt was being quietly urged on by Samist, the Duarch of Ludar.

Dainyl looked up from the various papers and back out through the window at the nearest pteridon in the courtyard behind the headquarters building, standing on its wide raised stone square and stretching its blue leathery wings. The long crystalline beak glittered in the sunlight. After a moment, Dainyl’s eyes dropped back to the papers before him.

Despite the proclamation that lay on his table desk and the green-edged gold stars on the collars of his blue and gray shimmersilk uniform that attested to his rank, Dainyl still didn’t feel like the Marshal of Myrmidons.

Add to that the fact that he was dreading the translation trip to Alustre, but the longer he waited, the more dangerous the situation became, and it wasn’t something he could delegate. For one thing, he didn’t have anyone to whom he could delegate the task. He’d been the submarshal in Elcien, and Colonel Dhenyr, who had been the Myrmidon operations director, had attempted to kill Dainyl when Dainyl had discovered Dhenyr’s treachery. Dainyl was the only senior officer left in headquarters. The other submarshal, Alcyna, was stationed in Alustre, the width of the continent away. For years, she had directed Myrmidon operations in the east, and she was one of the reasons Dainyl had to go to Alustre—and before long.

He took a deep breath and reached for the next document on the top of the taller pile. In less than a glass, he was due at the Palace of the Duarch in Elcien, to meet with Duarch Khelaryt to brief him personally on all that had happened in Hyalt and Tempre. He assumed that he would also be asked for his plans for the Myrmidons. That possibility worried him far more than explaining the past, because he doubted that it would be wise to reveal the reasons behind what he planned until he had a better idea of what the Duarch—and those around him—already knew.

Still, he needed to finish catching up on the other Myrmidon and Cadmian operations, or as many as he could, before he met with the Duarch. He began to read the report from Colonel Herolt, commander of the First Regiment, Cadmian Mounted Rifles.

When he finished, Dainyl couldn’t help but frown. Except for Second Battalion, every battalion in the First Regiment was understrength, and the colonel was reporting that matters were worsening. And why in the Archon’s name had a battalion been sent to Soupat? The mines there were marginal. At least he thought so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask Lystrana. As a chief assistant in the Palace of the Duarch, his wife might know the trade and finance background.

Slowly, he got up and headed for the records chamber.

Doselt, the squad leader in charge of records, then jumped to his feet. “Yes, Marshal?”

“Would you find me the records of and the orders to the First Cadmian Regiment that deal with the deployment of its Sixth Battalion to Soupat last season?”

“It might take a bit, sir.”

“Just bring them to me. If I’m not here, leave them on the corner of my desk.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dainyl moved down the corridor to see if Captain Ghasylt was in his study. Dainyl needed some help, and he needed it now. Ghasylt might be out in the courtyard—he spent more time flying or with the pteridons than did many company commanders. Dainyl was fortunate. The captain was standing by his desk, holding a report, looking at it quizzically.

He dropped it on the table. “Sir?”

“Ghasylt... you know that we have no operations director...”

“Yes, sir.” Ghasylt swallowed. “No, sir.”

“No, sir?” Dainyl couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m a flier, sir. I can’t do operations and scheduling and paperwork.”

“Your reports are excellent,” Dainyl pointed out.

“That’s because I don’t do them. Undercaptain Zernylta does. She has for years.”

Dainyl laughed. “I might steal her, then.”

“She writes well, sir. I’d hate to lose her, but she’d do better than I would.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s on the dispatch run from Ludar. She won’t be back until late.”

“Would you leave word that I would like to see her?”

“Yes, sir.” Ghasylt sounded disconsolate.

“If she works out, she won’t get jumped three ranks to colonel,” Dainyl said. “She’ll be a captain and assistant operations director.” Of course, there might not be an operations director for a while, but Dainyl needed the job done. “And you could still make majer... without doing much paperwork.” He grinned. “If you can find another undercaptain who can write.”

“Ghanyr’s not bad. Chelysta’s nearly as good as Zernylta, but don’t steal her. She’s the best squad leader in the air.”

Dainyl made a mental note to jot that down when he got back to his study. He could never tell when he might need another good company commander. He’d also have to check on Ghasylt. He might be able to promote him to majer anyway. The commanding officer of the Elcien company probably ought to be one, and Dainyl needed a good flying commander and loyalty as much as he needed an operations officer. “I appreciate the information, and even more, I appreciate your honesty and loyalty. These days, it means a great deal.”

Although Ghasylt’s expression remained politely attentive, Dainyl sensed the concealed surprise—and gratitude.

“We need to talk, before too long, about what may lie ahead for you and First Company.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dainyl nodded, then turned and headed back toward his study. He didn’t make it.

“The duty coach is ready, sir!” That was Undercaptain Yuasylt, the duty officer.

“I’ll be there in a moment.” Dainyl paused. There was nothing he really needed in his study. He turned and headed toward the archway to the front entrance.

Outside, waiting with the coach, was Wyalt. As always, the duty driver had a smile on his face when Dainyl strode out of headquarters. “Good morning, Marshal.”

“Good morning, Wyalt. The Duarch’s Palace.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dainyl stepped up into the coach and closed the door.

Once the coach began to move, he concentrated on how best to brief the Duarch. Some of that would depend on whether Khelaryt wanted a private briefing or one that included other High Alectors.

As the duty coach neared the Duarch’s Palace, Dainyl looked out at Elcien, a city built on an isle, of stone and tile and gardens and trees, orderly and vibrant, with stone-walled dwellings set on tree-lined streets, shops with their perfect tile roofs set around market squares that held everything produced on Acorus. Goods shipped from across the world flowed from the wharves and docks on the southern shore into endless warehouses and to everyone in Elcien, alectors and landers alike.

His eyes lingered on the twin green towers flanking the Palace, soaring into the silver-green sky, gleaming and glittering in the midmorning sunlight, symbolically crowning the accomplishments of the alectors of Acorus, who had turned a freezing and dying world into a place of life and achievement. Even as he marveled at the towers, Dainyl recalled the words of the ancient soarer. You must change, or you will die. That seemed so unlikely, yet the ancient had been so certain... and so melancholy in saying those words.

The coach slowed and came to a halt under the portico at the main entrance to the Duarch’s Palace. Dainyl stepped out.

“I’ll be waiting for you, sir,” Wyalt called down from the driver’s seat.

Dainyl almost told him to return to headquarters because others might need him, but cut off the words before he spoke. There wasn’t anyone there who would need the coach, not without a submarshal or an operations director. “Thank you. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I’ll be here, sir.”

Dainyl made his way in through the archway, past the pair ...

Edition details

• Publisher: Tor Science Fiction
• Publication date: 2007
• ISBN 10: 0765355590
• ISBN 13: 9780765355591
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 558