Heavier Than a Mountain (Destiny's Crucible Book 3)

by Olan Thorensen

  “We believe this means casting 12-pounder barrels will also succeed. All our barrel casting has, until now, been in a foundry in Abersford, a small town in southwestern Keelan. We are building a larger foundry in Caernford and are working with Mittack to build another big foundry there, because Mittack Province has plentiful deposits of copper and tin necessary to produce the bronze for the barrels. We have also begun talking with Bultecki about the same, and, after hearing the news from Hetman Farkesh about adopting the same firearm standards as we are doing, I’m sure we could help Farkesh establish cannon foundries.”

  “What about Skouks?” asked Margol Skouks. “We also have copper and tin and need to make cannon.”

  “Naturally, we will want to help any clan,” said Culich, his tone full of insouciance. “However, with so much to do, we have to first help the clans working closest with us in all facets of preparing for future Narthani attacks. We will share cannon with cooperating clans as soon as production allows.”

  Hetman Skouks’s face remained expressionless, and he said nothing more. The inference was clear—whoever doesn’t cooperate with issues such as standardizing firearm calibers can expect to be the lowest priority in receiving technological information on cannon casting.

  By the other hetmen’s expressions and side-conferring with aides, their responses varied. Some smirked at Skouks’s put-down, while others felt mollified at the prospect of Keelan sharing.

  “In addition to weapons production,” said Culich, moving on, “we plan to escalate food storage, in case harvests are interrupted. We’re doing this using deep, cold caves to store grain, cured meats, and hard cheeses. We’re also enlarging the size of cattle and horse herds as fast as we can and making plans to pool the animals and drive them to inland sites, where we can better protect them. Increasing the number of mature animals takes time, but we’re making a start on it. We’re even working to expand the number and capabilities of the mobile hospitals, such as we used at Moreland City. They saved many lives and allowed faster recovery of many more wounded men than would have occurred had they not been near the battle. Every clan should do the same.

  “Finally, we’re trying to train all our fighting men to ride to a battle site and then, if the situations warrants, dismount and fight on foot, as some of our men did decisively at Moreland City. We call such men dragoons.”

  Eyes again flickered to Yozef, though fewer than before.

  “The last thing I will mention is that in case the Narthani invade Keelan, we do not intend to defend Caernford but plan to have the people move to defendable areas, where mountains and rivers provide added protection. Caernford itself is too exposed, with no natural defenses. The city can be rebuilt, if necessary, but the people and their ability to resist are all that counts. Other members of the Five Clans are considering similar plans.

  “There you have it,” asserted Culich. “You have already heard that the type of fighting that occurred at Moreland City was different from anything the clans experienced in the past—large numbers of men, combining horses, cannon, and men on foot. This type of fighting—war, as Yozef Kolsko defines it—is known on the mainland continents, and the nations there are experienced in ways we are not. Ser Kolsko has read many writings on such methods, and he has written a brief summary of some of the lessons learned by other realms. Copies of his summary are available to all interested clans, and Ser Kolsko cautions me that these general principles still require men of reason and controlled temperament to implement.”

  Culich had told Yozef the previous day that he didn’t think it was time to share the summary with all of the clans. Obviously, he had changed his mind. Yozef hoped the clans would read the principles and think deeply about them, while he knew some hetmen would be oblivious to their meaning and application. Still, some understanding was better than complete naiveté.

  “Hetman Orosz,” said Culich, turning to the Orosz hetman and conclave moderator, “that’s the summary of the plans of the Five Clans.”

  Orosz rose and faced the other hetmen. “Are there any questions for Hetman Keelan?”

  There were, and the next hour and a half consisted of a rapid-fire interrogation of the details of Culich’s summary. When the questions petered out, Orosz raised a final issue.

  “Hetmen, we have agreed to heavy patrols of the Eywell and Selfcell borders. However, this is the decision of the entire conclave and not just the three clans with those borders, Stent, Moreland, and Keelan. It is only fair that the other clans provide men to participate in the patrols. I propose that we consider that each clan provides two hundred men on a constant basis for these patrols. I suggest that those two hundred be rotated by each clan, so that no man spends too much time away from his home and work, perhaps three weeks. Because of the travel problem, Seaborn could be excused, but we can discuss this with Hetman Seaborn.”

  Orosz neglected to mention that the idea had been plotted with Culich, Stent, and Yozef. Besides the true argument of fairness to the bordering clans, it kept the other clans actively involved in resisting the Narthani and provided opportunities for men from different clans to gain experience working together.

  Another hour of discussion passed with a few heated moments; then Orosz called a vote, which was approved by sixteen to two. Each clan, including the two nay voting clans, Nyvaks and Skouks, was obliged to provide two hundred men for the patrols.

  The sun had set and its last light still competed with the stars, when the conclave adjourned and all ensuing discussions between and among individuals and groups finally ended. Yozef had mainly listened, until the Keelan delegation remained alone, and Culich turned to him.

  “What do you think, Yozef? This is your first experience with a conclave.”

  “I’m sorry, Culich, but even though I didn’t know what to expect, I’m discouraged by the lack of progress with the clans agreeing to really unite, instead of this piecemeal approach.”

  Culich laughed, Luwis grunted, and Denes covered a grin.

  “Yozef, this was the most productive conclave I have ever attended among the thirty or more I’ve gone to, either accompanying my father or as hetman myself.”

  Yozef looked at his father-in-law incredulously.

  “My God! What must the others have been like?”

  Culich slapped him on the back. “I’m afraid that sitting in conclaves and maintaining composure is a hetman duty that my father didn’t fully explain to me, even though I saw him do it so many times.”

  “Will there be time to bring the others around?” Yozef asked, worried. “A famous general in the histories once said to a subordinate ‘Ask me for anything but time.’ And another time, he said, ‘Space can be recovered, but time is lost forever.’”

  “True,” said Culich. “Being a leader also means knowing what is possible and doing the best you can with what you have, not thinking too much about what you don’t have.”

  Yozef’s respect for Culich’s patience rose several notches, but his opinion of the conclave’s outcome remained dubious, as they ate an evening meal and returned to their rooms. They would be up and on the road back to Caernford well before the first light.

  CHAPTER 17: RETURNING TO CAERNFORD

  They retraced their route to Orosz City, south through the high, dry plain of central Orosz Province, until they reached the spot where the road turned southwest through low hills to descend toward Moreland City. There, Yozef’s carriage, along with Carnigan, Balwis, and ten outriders, split from the main party and headed into Hewell Province. The conclave’s outcome or, to his persistent nagging thoughts, lack of outcomes remained ever present in Yozef’s thoughts, but he had a purpose to the side excursion. Looking for Flagorn eggs. Willwin Wallington had told Yozef of a man-sized, egg-shaped object that protruded from solid rock on the western slope of Mt. Erbowyn, the highest peak in western Hewell.

  Yozef had mulled over what Willwin said, then brought up the topic of the eggs on a subsequent visit to the abbey.

  * *
*

  “I had heard about them since I was a child,” said Willwin. “They’re called Flagorn eggs after a child’s tale from the northern clans. You know, those clans descended from the first people to come to Caedellium? Most of the rest of us are from a second immigration about a hundred years later. The legend deals with ancient gods that are no longer believed in, but it talks of strange and fearsome creatures that once lived on Caedellium and laid giant eggs.”

  Yep, dragons! Yozef wanted to blurt out but suppressed the impulse.

  “Now, of course, we know such creatures are only legends, and the Flagorn eggs are simply a strange kind of rock or probably a crystal of some kind,” Willwin continued. “All that’s known about them is the surface is smooth and doesn’t allow dust to settle on it. Someone once told me that efforts to cut them or hack them into smaller pieces always fail, so they’re tremendously hard.”

  Further questions to Willwin provided no additional information. When Yozef said he planned to see the egg for himself, he got a fair description of the egg’s location from Willwin, and the scholastic suggested asking locals to guide him on the final part of the journey. Yozef’s casual queries about other locations turned up supposed eggs in Mittack, Vandinke, and Nyvaks provinces, though not exact locations.

  * * *

  Thus, when the trip to Orosz City for the conclave arose, Yozef decided to see one of the Flagorn eggs for himself. He would normally have considered this a waste of time, following up on a silly myth, if it hadn’t been for the presumed circuit board Willwin had shown him. After that, Yozef was loath to discount any unusual report.

  When he informed Culich that he would take a side trip on their return, the hetman had a quizzical expression but didn’t argue. Yozef figured the hetman subscribed to the view of so many others that if Yozef thought something worth doing, you might as well concede the importance or score it as another of his idiosyncrasies.

  The small Keelan caravan became two smaller parties, with Yozef’s entourage turning onto a smaller road heading south-southeast into Hewell.

  The plain gave way to dry, bare hills, which gradually changed to those forested by Anyar trees with no sign of terrestrial species. Hills became steeper and approached what Yozef considered mountains, through which the road wound within valleys and passes. It took a day and a half to reach the village described by Willwin. The villagers, though surprised to see a Keelan party, acted friendly, if bemused, to learn of the purpose of the Keelanders’ arrival.

  “You want to see what!?” exclaimed one elderly Hewell man, in a tone Yozef could imagine him using on a child. “That’s a good day’s hike up into the mountain from here. There’s nothing there but that odd rock. I can just describe it to you and save you the trip.”

  Yozef could see Balwis, standing behind the man, roll his eyes, whether at the man’s remark or in embarrassment at being part of Yozef’s fool’s errand.

  “Thank you, Ser, for the offer, but since we’ve come all this way, I want to see for myself.”

  “Up to you,” said the man. “I’m not the one to show you the way, though. I’ll admit I went there once when I was younger, but nothing up there was worth the trip, and I never went again.” The man looked around. “See the older boy over there by the water trough? I think he’s been up there recently and can guide you. You’ll need to pay him some coin for the lost time working on his family’s farm.”

  Yozef thanked the man, who walked away, shaking his head. Yozef found the youth of about fifteen more than willing to show strangers the way to the province’s one and only, as far as anyone knew, Flagorn egg. Whether his eagerness was due to associating with the foreign party, being paid, or escaping a day or two of farm work, Yozef couldn’t tell.

  The next morning, the Keelanders, minus five escorts who were left to watch the carriage and horses, followed the youth east up the western slopes of Mt. Erbowyn, a craggy, imposing peak Yozef estimated at 8,000 feet. Fortunately, the egg’s resting place was only at about the 6,500-foot level, 4,000 feet above the village. Still, they endured a strenuous seven-hour walk up a tenuous trail that crossed scree slopes and boulder fields.

  The sun had risen past midday when it disappeared, as they moved into a cloud hovering around the mountain’s higher elevations. Another half hour and the guide stopped at a bare rock face on a twenty-degree incline and pointed.

  “There. You can see it from here.”

  Fifty yards away, a bluish-gray ovoid stuck up from an otherwise smooth surface. Carnigan insisted on tying a rope to a boulder off the slope, with each man connected to the rope by a six-foot section of rope. Otherwise, one slip and he might not be able to recover before reaching the edge of the slope, where it dropped into an abyss. They walked up to the ovoid, careful of their footing and small pieces of rock that acted like ball-bearings.

  Yozef’s first glimpse from the side of the slope sent a shiver along his spine, and the hairs on his arms stood up. This was no natural rock formation. Any lingering doubt vanished before they reached the object. As Willwin said, it was egg-shaped, with the narrow end of the egg pointed up and the lower one-third either inside the rock or sitting on the rock.

  Yozef chipped at the bottom edge with a hammer he’d asked the guide to bring, exposing another inch of the object below the rock surface. It extended into the rock, and Yozef had no doubt that if they excavated completely, they would find it encased by rock millions of years old.

  This was set into the rock after drilling out a cavity, he thought. He ran his hand over a surface as smooth as if covered with oil. He reached into his pocket for dirt he’d picked up before leaving the village. He took out a small handful and let it fall onto the top of the object. It ran down the sides of the egg as if it were water, leaving no trace, no speck of dust. Just as he’d been told, nothing could rest on the object.

  He tapped it with the hammer. There was no ring, clunk, or anything he’d expect from striking an object as solid as this one appeared, only a faint thud, and the hammer almost felt as if it had struck a hard rubber surface.

  Yozef didn’t doubt that this technological artifact was far more advanced than anything that could have originated on this planet. He guessed it was far more advanced than anything that relied on Earth’s level of technology.

  “Holy shit,” he uttered in English. “The Watchers or whoever brought plants and animals here from Earth? And what is it? You don’t just put something like this here for no reason. A communication relay? An observation device? Observing what? There’s nothing special to see around here, except other mountains and clouds.”

  He looked up. “Maybe it’s not looking down, but up. Watching for something in the sky or orbiting or a communication device aimed at who knows where?”

  “What is it, Yozef?” said a voice. He looked away from the egg.

  Balwis stared at him. “Do you know what this is? It’s more than just a rock, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said, “more than a rock, though I can’t tell exactly what it is.” He wanted to sit and simply stare at the object, letting his mind sort through the jumble of thoughts that ran through it. But he couldn’t sit. Not on this slope. Not with the other men watching him closely, probably wondering what Yozef Kolsko made of this strange rock, if it was a rock.

  Christ, I wish I had a camera. Better yet, I wish I could take this back to Caernford and have time and tools to make a better examination, although, if I had to bet, I expect I’d learn nothing more than what I see right now.

  He stood next to the egg for half an hour, his hands alternately running over the surface of the egg and down his pant legs, as he contemplated the object and its meaning.

  Once again, a contradiction to Harlie’s assertion that the Watchers had no direct contact, unless this and the circuit board are from different aliens. More is going on here than I can guess at, and I wonder if even the Watchers are befuddled, more than Harlie indicated, by Anyar and the other planets and the transplanted humans.
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  “Sers,” said their guide. “The sun lowers. We can make it back down the mountain before dark, if we hurry. Otherwise, we’ll have to stay on the middle slope for the night. It’s too dangerous to try to get down at night.”

  Yozef looked around. The seven other men stood around him and the object, their expressions varied: confusion, probably at why he found the object so enthralling; unease at being near something so unearthly, or in this case, un-Anyarian; wonder at whether Yozef knew what the object was and how; or a touch of fear, though they couldn’t have expressed why.

  They’d have to go. Other eggs existed elsewhere on Caedellium. He would find one that wasn’t located in such an inaccessible place, dig it out, and take it to his shops. He doubted that he’d learn anything, but he would do it, just in case. And who knew? Maybe the owners would show up. Of course, maybe that was not such a good idea.

  He stepped back, looked around, and then up.

  Was it an observation device and someone or something was looking and recording him right now? Was it a relic, like the circuit board? Something left from an unknown age?

  Questions. I don’t need questions, especially ones for which I’ll never find the answers.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ve seen it, and it’s certainly interesting, but we need to get down before dark. We’ll spend the night in the village, then push on hard toward Caernford. There’s a lot to be done, and we’ve diverted enough for this trip.”

  As they turned to re-cross the rock face, he caught the eyes of Carnigan and Balwis. He didn’t doubt neither believed that he’d revealed all he knew of the egg. Carnigan’s expression accepted his friend’s mysterious way, but Balwis’s appeared uncertain, as if he wondered whether he should be annoyed at Yozef for not telling all he knew or glad he didn’t know more and have to deal with what he’d learned.