“We also will not take kindly to Narthon designs on neighboring realms, particularly on the Landolin continent.”
“Such things are well above my position and knowledge,” Akuyun had lied. “But it would surprise me if the Caedelli participated in events elsewhere since the island and its population are relatively small. I, of course, do not belittle the success the clans have had so far in defending their lands.”
“Surprises are, by their very nature, surprising,” said Kolsko, his tone dripping irony, “and small doesn’t necessarily mean insignificant. Surely, a man struck by a musket ball would not discount the effect of something so much smaller than himself.”
Akuyun had smiled and nodded, conceding the point, before Kolsko continued.
“But back to the future of Narthon. We have just over three thousand Narthani, soldiers and civilians, who have chosen to remain on Caedellium when the rest of you leave. You should worry about that number. If three thousand will take the step of leaving the lives they previously knew for something they must believe will be better, there must be many thousands more who would do the same if they weren’t uncertain of the reception by the Caedelli or weren’t afraid of losing the only life they’ve known, even if lives they didn’t like.”
Again, Akuyun dissembled, though the same thoughts continued to disturb him.
“Each person must decide for themselves, and who knows if those who remain will come to regret the decision?”
Yozef leaned forward. “I have to wonder what it is about Narthon that leads so many to take the step to leave? I believe people have two reasons to give allegiance to a government. One is when the government provides a level of security—food, shelter, and physical protection from enemies and elements—and also engenders a sense of justice and respect. How does Narthon fare on those factors when its people think of their situation?
“The other reason is when they feel a part of the higher goals of their society. From what I understand, Narthon’s main goal is to rule all of Anyar. If that is true, what do the common people feel about that? Do they care whether the emperor rules the world, or is it their own lives and families they most care about? Is the glory of Narthon something that resonates with their minds and souls, or is it something they don’t understand or identify with? Narthon’s goals often require sacrifice, so what are the Narthani people willing to lose?
“Look at Caedellium. Let’s imagine, for a moment, that you had subjugated the island, but in the process, a son of yours died. Would you believe the loss was acceptable?”
Akuyun demurred from answering and changed the conversation’s direction. However, the question and other things he discussed with Kolsko were never far from his mind, and he wondered if they ever would be.
***
Akuyun’s first sight of the changes to Ezarkin since he’d last left appeared at the entrance to Ezarkin Bay. Those years ago, the Iraquiniks had possessed few organized naval resources. This had made extensive defenses unnecessary for the moderate-size fishing town and harbor. As the ship entered the bay, it passed by what the captain referred to as modified war galleons. These large warships, with added heavier guns and thicker bulwarks, were on spring anchors to allow rotation and firing in all directions. The captain said the anchored galleons were essentially floating, maneuverable forts, unfit for sea duty but formidable defenses against any Iraquinik ships attempting to enter the bay. So far, the Iraquiniks had not contested control of the bay, whose one southern coast was Iraquinik territory.
Akuyun identified the second change when he recognized semaphore stations at intervals along the Narthon coast.
Early warning , he thought approvingly.
Any attempt by the Iraquiniks or anyone else to attack Ezarkin by sea couldn’t happen by surprise.
The full scale of the build-up became apparent when Akuyun’s ship first sailed past galleons and frigates anchored at fifty-yard intervals, then encountered row after row of troop transports anchored hull to hull near shore.
“Great Narth,” said a voice from behind Akuyun. He turned to see Aivacs Zulfa looking at the line of anchored warships.
“I’m not a sailor, but these look new and not just like warships moved from the Throat.”
Akuyun’s army commander from the Caedellium mission referenced the ocean separating the southern continents of Drilmar and Ganolar from Melosia, the largest continent, which spanned west to east in most of the hemisphere of Anyar that contained the main landmasses.
“And look farther, Aivacs, out into the bay,” said Akuyun. “I can’t make out the exact ships, but it must be squadrons of frigates and galleons practicing maneuvers.”
“I say again, Okan . . . Great Narth. There must be a good hundred warships out there, and we’ve been passing anchored troop and supply transports for the last several miles. I think this answers the question whether the High Command has further plans for this part of Anyar. I only wonder if the intentions still include Caedellium?”
“I don’t know,” said Akuyun. “There were already enough ships to transport an entire corps. I wonder if, with this many new ships, our navy could now move two or three entire corps in one trip? Assuming Landolin is the ultimate target, the northern kingdoms there are as close or closer than Caedellium.”
“But they’re also the most populated and likely to be the most difficult to defeat,” said Zulfa. “If it were me, I’d consider one of the more southern kingdoms to establish a foothold on Landolin, then work our way north.”
“Maybe we’ll hear more details once ashore,” said Akuyun.
They were to be disappointed. When the ship docked, the only greeting they received was from a young lieutenant. He handed Akuyun a pouch sealed with the stamp of the High Command and a stack of personal correspondence. Akuyun took both to the small compartment in the ship’s aftcastle that he had used as an office during the voyage. He sat by an open window, broke open the official dispatch, and read it once quickly, then slowly a second time. He frowned. There was to be no debriefing or inquiry here in Ezarkin. The orders said to make all speed to the capital, Umasya. There, an inquiry would involve him, his immediate subordinates in the Caedellium mission, and the most senior surviving officers from Gullar’s corps.
Akuyun’s three army colonels had returned from Caedellium and were en route to Umasya or already there, waiting for the inquiry. Assessor Hizer had been on the first ships in the evacuation, so he’d already traveled to the capital. Similarly, General Istranik must be there as well, since Akuyun had ruled that the remnants of Gullar’s corps leave before Akuyun’s men. That left only Akuyun, Zulfa, and civilian administrator Nizam Tuzere, all three having just arrived on the last ship.
He went to the office door and called for an aide to fetch Zulfa and Tuzere.
“Orders for the three of us to go to the capital for an inquiry,” Akuyun said, as the other two men read the dispatch.
“I wouldn’t read anything into it,” said Tuzere. “As badly as the Caedellium mission went, it’s hardly a surprise the top leadership wants to hear and directly question the command structure most involved.”
“While I may agree with you, Nizam,” said Zulfa, “I admit I hoped for some clue as to what the future holds for all of us. A failure of the magnitude of the Caedellium disaster is sure to have parties looking on whom to cast blame.”
“Anyone other than themselves,” Akuyun muttered under his breath. Then, moving on with a firm voice, “But no matter. We have our orders. Aivacs. It may be too late today, but see if you can find out the dispositions of our men who already returned. I suspect they’ve been reassigned, but they were our men, so we need to confirm what’s happened to them. If not today, finish as soon as possible tomorrow morning. Tuzere, I’ll leave it to you to arrange transportation for the three of us, our luggage, and the families of myself and Aivacs.”
The Akuyuns’ two youngest children had accompanied Okan and Rabia to Caedellium. The administrator was a widower and had not
taken up a relationship with a Caedelli woman. Zulfa had brought a woman from his family’s estate with him to Caedellium, and she had borne two children.
Tuzere handed the orders back to Akuyun. “I’ll make the arrangements, Okan. From here, fastest will be carriages southeast to the Urgani River, then a boat to the port of Magnulak and carriages the two hundred miles to Umasya. The river’s swift this time of year, so the entire trip shouldn’t take us more than a month.”
“I’ll make a courtesy call on the port commander, while the two of you check on our men and make arrangements to get to Umsaya,” said Akuyun. “If we can leave tomorrow, I don’t see a need to move off the ship for the lodging in Ezarkin, although I’m sure our families will want to spend as much time as they can walking on land.”
When the other two men left, Akuyun turned to the pile of personal correspondence. Before he alerted Rabia and the children about the immediate plans, he wanted to check for letters from their two adult sons, Bilfor and Morzak. Both were junior officers serving in the Narthani army and had families. There had not been letters for many months, presumably because all personal correspondence was held at Ezarkin in anticipation of the intended recipients returning to Narthon.
He scanned the addresses on letters. He could recognize both sons’ writing, Bilfor’s by its careful script and Morzak’s by block lettering.
Odd , he thought when he finished sorting. Only two from Bilfor, while over a dozen from Morzak. Oh, well, vagaries of duties and stations, I suppose .
Given when the last delivered letters had reached them on Caedellium, he would have predicted about seven or eight letters from each. Although Akuyun wanted to hear of family news, he had made both sons know that, adult or not, their mother expected monthly letters.
He opened Bilfor’s two letters first and scanned them for major news. He would read them more carefully later with Rabia and then by himself again several times until new letters came.
It was standard news about Bilfor’s family: all in good health, children growing up and wondering when they would see the grandparents who were only a dim memory for the oldest child and unknown to the two youngest. Bilfor’s latest posting made Akuyun think there was a hint of dissatisfaction with a new commander.
Just one thing we all have to live with , thought Akuyun. We all are thankful for competent commanders we can respect, but being a good officer includes dealing with the others, too.
He refolded the two letters and set them aside. Rabia knew he would have read the letters before bringing them to her. Then he turned to Morzak’s and put them in order, using the posting dates written on the letters’ covers. For a moment, he hesitated to read all of Morzak’s letters now, instead of with Rabia, but she and their other two children had hardly waited until the ship finished docking before they were ashore and stretching their legs.
When he opened the fifth letter, he began a rapid scan, then stopped. His breath caught, and his hand tightened on the paper, almost crushing the sheets.
It was almost two hours later when he heard voices and footsteps approaching their quarters on the galleon. He rose from where he’d been sitting for the last two hours and went toward the door, just as it opened to the flushed, smiling faces of his family.
“Ozem, Lufta, please go back on deck while I talk with your mother.”
Three smiles faded at his expression. Rabia opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a curt hand motion.
“Go on now. I’ll send for you in a while.”
Ozem frowned and started to say something, but his sister took his hand and pulled him. She was more alert than her brother to her father’s moods.
When the door closed, Akuyun took Rabia’s elbow and led her to a chair. He pulled another chair to face hers, sat, and took her hands in his. “Dearest, I’m afraid there’s terrible news from Morzak. He’s written us that Bilfor is dead.”
An hour later, Akuyun took Ozem for a walk and left Rabia and Lufta sobbing in each other’s arms. Ozem had taken the news of his oldest brother’s death stoically, though his father noticed a quiver on his son’s lips. They walked past other docked ships being loaded or unloaded, work gangs moving crates of something somewhere, and on to the tip of an empty pier. Hidden from view behind the tops of pilings and discarded crates, Ozem broke down and wept for the oldest brother, whom he hadn’t seen for six years but whom he had fond memories of and with whom he had exchanged periodic letters.
Akuyun held his youngest son.
When he could speak, Ozem released his father and stiffened his frame. “Sorry, Father. I couldn’t help it. Never to see Bilfor again! It doesn’t seem real or right.”
“There’s nothing wrong with sorrow for a loss like this, Ozem. Our people too often try to pretend men should be strong enough to bear anything, but that’s a delusion. Mourning losses is proof of the importance of what we lost. If you can’t mourn, then nothing is of value to you. Your mother and I will always mourn Bilfor, as will you, Lufta, and Morzak, each in our own way. As hard as it is, we will go on and always remember him.”
Later that evening, Okan and Rabia read all the family letters: from Bilfor; Bilfor’s wife, Uzla; Morzak; and Rabia’s retired father, General Khalin Ergoman.
Bilfor had died leading a battalion on an Iraquinik front. One of Morzak’s last letters overflowed with bitterness toward Bilfor’s commander, who’d ordered an attack that, as Morzak heard from other officers present in the unit, had scant chance of success and would have gained little or nothing even if it had succeeded. Okan swore he would investigate what happened when he had the opportunity.
Uzla and the children had moved to live on the Ergoman estate in far eastern Narthon. The Ergoman family was prestigious and wealthy. The main estate was three hundred miles from the border with the Harrasedic League, one of Narthon’s many enemies.
Akuyun’s family was of lesser status, and although Okan and Rabia owned no properties, their frugal lifestyle had let them accumulate significant gold. They intended to use it one day to buy and establish an Akuyun estate for themselves and their family.
It was well past midnight when Rabia fell into a troubled sleep. Okan had stayed with her until then. Afterward, he walked the harbor area of Ezarkin for another two hours before returning. Later, he couldn’t remember what he’d thought about during those two hours, only that his son’s death needed to mean something.
Matching Akuyun’s travel estimate, a month and two days after docking at Ezarkin, his family arrived at the Narthon capital. Over halfhearted protests from Ozem and Lufta, the two children left Umsaya by escort to their grandparents’ estate, while Rabia stayed with Okan for the inquiries to follow.
“It’s better this way,” said Okan to his wife, as they watched the children’s carriage and escorts leave. “They need to see their other uncle and all the cousins. It’ll be good for them to be around more of the family and away from all this.”
“I know, I know,” said Rabia, self-consciously wiping a tear. “It’s just that part of me wants to hold them here even closer than before, I’m sure because of Bilfor. The other part of me wants to be in the carriage with them on the way to see my parents, the old home, and the rest of the family.”
“It’s good that Morzak obtained leave from his unit to relocate Bilfor’s family and take his own with him. When we do get to Jurkek, it will be the first time in ten years that all of our family is together.”
“All but Bilfor,” Rabia said sadly.
Dressed immaculately as a general of the Narthon army, three sixdays later Akuyun finally appeared before the inquiry board, which was composed of two grand marshals, three marshals, representatives of the empire’s intelligence and foreign service offices, and two of the emperor’s personal advisers.
Akuyun knew that Assessor Hizer, Administrator Tuzere, and General Istranik had already been before the board. He couldn’t help but feel concerned at being the last witness. Were they setting him up to take the blame, or would he
be exonerated for doing the best anyone could?
“General Akuyun, we have all read your reports, so please begin by giving a brief overview of the mission from your perspective,” said Grand Marshal Fazellon, one of the empire’s most senior commanders. Akuyun had briefly served under him fifteen years previously.
Akuyun knew what would follow. He hadn’t finished more than a few sentences before being peppered by questions or statements, many aggressive and accusatory.
“Why did you wait so long to initiate Phase 4? That gave the islanders longer than necessary to prepare resistance.”
“I followed the mission plan as given to me and as adjusted for the conditions as I found them. The timetable for progress had adhered to the original plan through Phase 3.”
“Why didn’t you relieve Brigadier Zulfa after his failure at the battle of . . . ,” the questioner paused to review his notes, “Moreland City? Was it because you approved the campaign plan and you were protecting yourself from blame?”
“Brigadier Zulfa and I worked on the campaign plan together. I approved the final details, as did Assessor Hizer. Based on the intelligence information on Caedellium to start the mission and reports from agents within the clans, we had no reason to anticipate the degree of resistance and tactical sense coming from the islanders. This included our believing there were no outside factors, such as the Fuomi presence.”
Akuyun gave his answers placidly to avoid direct accusations of incompetence against the intelligence service. But no one was fooled, and two of the board members frowned or muttered something.
“Why didn’t you answer Marshal Gullar’s order to bring all Narthani forces to his relief? The militias you describe could have protected the Narthani civilians long enough to resupply Gullar.”
“In accordance with the orders Marshal Gullar brought with him, I was not under his direct command, and my primary responsibility was stated to secure the hundred thousand civilians and slaves in Preddi Province. If I had committed all or even a significant fraction of my men to accompany General Istranik and try to relieve Marshal Gullar, the clans could have attacked Preddi Provence in force, endangering its population and even threatening to capture Preddi City. At that time, there was no information on Marshal Gullar’s situation at Orosz City.”
Tales of Anyar Page 19
