And himself. The five men he’d killed—four while fighting, the fifth only semiconscious and defenseless when Yozef had stabbed him enough times to kill him several times over. Part of him thought he should feel anguish or at least regrets over killing other humans, but he remembered how he’d been angry last night that there were no more Narthani to kill. He passed a mirror and deliberately avoided looking at his reflection, not sure what he would see.
Thud! He’d walked into a wall without realizing it was there. He’d been awake for thirty hours and needed to sleep before his mind shut down. He went back to the cottage where the six men had met and decided to send Denes and the reaction force to Dornfeld. He lay on one of the two beds, wondering whether he could fall asleep.
A hand shook him by the shoulder. “What—”
“Yozef,” said a voice. “Wake up.”
He looked up into Balwis’s face.
“How long was I asleep?”
“I don’t know,” said Balwis. “Culich is awake, and the others are gathering to see if he’s in shape to talk about Denes’s raid.”
Yozef hurriedly swung his legs off the bed and stood upright, staggering for a moment, then followed Balwis toward the house. He noticed the sun’s shadows and estimated he must have slept at least three hours.
He and Balwis were the last to arrive. The others surrounded Culich’s bed, where the hetman sat propped up against pillows, his face ashen with pain and grief but his eyes clear.
“They found some poppy extract on one of the attackers,” whispered Balwis. “The medicants gave the hetman enough to dull the pain but leave him coherent.”
“Yozef,” said Culich, his voice ragged, “they’ve told me about sending Denes and the reaction force toward Dornfeld. I agree with the decision, yet I worry about them getting themselves trapped if the Narthani react faster than we expected when we dreamed up this plan.”
“It’s a danger,” Yozef agreed. “Still, risks have to be taken. The Narthani have to learn they can’t launch attacks without knowing we can respond toward their weakened home territory. However, I share your concern and think we need to move more forces to Dornfeld to provide support, if Denes runs into too much trouble. Keelan already has five hundred men at Dornfeld and the fort blocking the Dillagon pass. Not all those men are appropriate for offensive operations. Perhaps half are. With those and more we can muster quickly, we should put a thousand men and additional supplies across the Eywell border and set up a camp in a defensible position that Denes can fall back to. The reaction force has 6-pounders. This additional force can take more 6-pounders and several batteries of 12-pounders. If we pick the location properly, there should be nothing the Narthani can throw at the position before everyone can withdraw back to Keelan. I suggest Mulron Luwis be in command, and I’ll organize the artillery and accompany this reserve force.”
“That’s putting another thousand Keelan men in danger,” Kennrick protested.
“No, Yozef may be right,” said Vortig Luwis. “It’s been a few years, but before the Narthani came to Caedellium and the damn Eywellese went over to them, I spent a month in that part of Eywell. I remember the terrain. Although the hills aren’t high, the sides are steep. There are any number of places where a thousand men and artillery could stop any Narthani force for several days. I’ll feel better about this if Denes had a backup.”
Luwis asked Culich, “What do you think, Hetman?”
Culich had closed his eyes while listening and opened them to answer. “I agree. Vortig, go ahead and muster the men. Mulron will command. Kennrick, work with Mulron and Vortig on the supplies and other needs. The reaction force will be well into Eywell before the support camp can start to be set up, so speed is essential.
“As for Yozef going along to help with the artillery, I approve, but Mulron, you are not to allow him to go farther than the camp. You have my permission to take whatever means necessary to keep him from doing anything heroic, like at Moreland City.”
“Yes, Hetman,” said Mulron, eyeing Yozef with a look conveying he wasn’t sure which of the hetman’s assignments would be the easiest.
Culich closed his eyes again. “I need to rest. I think you know what needs be done. Keep me informed of any news or problems.”
Culich’s eyes shot open again. “Before I drift off again, the news about other attacks? Are they confirmed?”
“Yes, Culich,” said Luwis, his voice harsh with anger. “Hetman Skouks is dead. The attack on Hetman Bevans failed. The latest word from Swavebroke is that the people of Shullick are moving away from the city as fast as possible. Hetman Swavebroke and an unknown number of his men are fighting the Narthani within the city to slow them from pursuing the fleeing citizens. There’s no further word on how the fighting is going.”
Culich shook his head slowly and drifted off.
“He needs to rest,” said Kennrick. “We can continue outside.”
They went out to the front veranda. Reminders of the previous night were the hole in the front door where a shotgun had blasted away the lock, broken windows, and bloodstains where the second attacker Yozef had shot bled away his life.
“Mulron and I will organize the men to form the support force,” said Vortig Luwis. “It would have been best to simply use men from the northwestern districts, but they haven’t had enough time training as dragoons or using the new artillery, and our men in Dornfeld haven’t had the training at all. That only leaves men closer to Caernford.”
“We could compromise, Father,” said Mulron Luwis. “I can put together six hundred men from the Caernford garrison and neighboring districts where the training has been ongoing. In a day, two at the most, we can be moving hard toward Dornfeld. We can add another six hundred men from the northwest clans and integrate them with the other men. It won’t be optimal, but for this purpose it’s not crucial that all the men know how to fight as dragoons. After all, we’re talking about establishing a defensible position, not offensive operations like Denes is doing. Then there are the men already at Dornfeld. I could include perhaps two hundred of them to either go with us all the way or set up a second fallback position closer to Dornfeld.”
Luwis looked at Kennrick for his opinion
“This is more your responsibility, Vortig,” responded Kennrick. “Although, if we’re sending Denes off, it isn’t a bad idea to have support, in case it’s needed.”
“All right, Mulron,” said Vortig, “set it all in motion. Let me know what instructions from the clan headquarters need to be sent out.”
Luwis looked around. “Anything else?” No one responded. “Off we go then.”
Yozef almost blurted out that he had another topic, but he caught himself just in time. It occurred to him that he didn’t require input or permission for what he had in mind; he only needed to accept responsibility if things went wrong.
He wandered around, looking for his escaped Preddi Shadow, and found him standing outside the room where medicants attended Ceinwyn.
“Balwis, follow me.”
They moved out of the house and stopped when fifty feet from the nearest person. Yozef didn’t want anyone to listen in.
“You mentioned that you had been to Hanslow, right?”
“Yes, twice,” Balwis responded. “When I was fourteen, I helped my father drive fifty horses from our ranch to Hanslow. It was unusual for Father to deliver horses so far away, but the price was too good to pass up. When we got there, the buyer was away, and we had to wait five days. I got to know the city fairly well, since there was nothing else to do. The second time was just before the Narthani took control of Preddi. This time I went alone to take possession of three mares my father had purchased from an Eywell horse ranch known for its breeding stock.”
“So,” said Yozef carefully, “do you consider yourself familiar enough with Hanslow that you could find your way around the city easily?”
“It’s been a few years since I was there, but I don’t imagine it has changed that much.”
“Balwis . . . ” Yozef paused, arguing with himself whether the potential reward would prove great enough for men to take the enormous risk he feared it would be. He tried to find reasons that the answer would be “no” and failed.
“Balwis, I have an idea. Something that would strike hard at the Narthani and, I hope, convince them to stop with these assassination attempts. However, it’s very dangerous. How much so, I can’t honestly estimate.”
Balwis grinned. “I have the feeling you’re working your way up to seeing if I would volunteer for this idea of yours.”
“It is strictly volunteer. Let me tell you what it is, and you can tell me why I’m crazy to think you’re insane enough to do it.”
Half an hour later, Balwis had gone through a succession of opinions that ranged from curiosity about Yozef’s latest idea to being incredulous that Yozef thought he would volunteer, to grudgingly admitting the idea might work but not with himself participating, and finally to wanting to know more details before he committed.
“For more details, we’ll have to talk with Anarynd and Gwyned,” said Yozef.
They found Anarynd holding Aeneas and sitting with Maera, who had finally fallen asleep in her chair next to her father’s bed. Gwyned had been feeding porridge to Morwena in one of the guest cottages.
The four adults sat around a table in the cottage.
If this were going to be possible, they’d need Anarynd and Gwyned to remember all they could. As much as Yozef hated to press the two women, he only hoped they had the fortitude to help.
CHAPTER 35: THREE DAYS LATER
Shullick, Swavebroke Province
Brigadier Aivacs Zulfa panned his telescope across the vista from his vantage above the valley where the main road ran eastward from Shullick. Even from two miles away, he could see the jumble of belongings the citizens of the Swavebroke capital had tried to take with them, only to be discarded when word of a Narthani pursuit passed through the thousands of refugees. This part of the road was ten miles from Shullick, and the abandoned baggage had gradually lessened the farther from the city they went.
Resistance inside Shullick was quashed only the previous day. Although not that many of Swavebroke’s fighting men had fought, they had been tenacious and had to be rooted out block by block. The delay had allowed most citizens to leave the city, though Zulfa wasn’t discouraged, because taking captives was not an objective and would only slow down their main mission—property destruction. General Akuyun had warned against indiscriminate killing. They wanted to put fear back into the clans, not incite them.
Zulfa’s ears picked up distant sounds of musket fire and the occasional 8-pounder. The smaller cannon were only recently cast and tested, ready for deployment. They hadn’t brought horse artillery with them to Caedellium, because it hadn’t been deemed necessary—just one of the surprises the island had presented to them, such as the clans being more capable than anticipated.
“Major,” Zulfa said, not lowering the telescope, “I think it’s time to pull back to Shullick. Resistance is increasing, and the latest reports say that Pewitt and Farkesh men have starting showing up. We knew this would happen eventually, and we’re not here to engage in fixed battles with an increasing number of clansmen.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll give the order. I’ll admit I was about to suggest it myself. This morning is the first time they’ve brought artillery out. We lost ten men to a grapeshot volley from three of their cannon when they ambushed a patrol scouting to the north. The officer in charge of the patrol estimated the cannon were somewhat lighter than our 8-pounders, maybe in the 6-pounder range.”
Zulfa grunted. “General Akuyun will not be happy to get this news. It was annoying enough that they had those abortions of light artillery at Moreland City and then captured some of our 12-pounders, and now they’re casting their own. If they have 6-pounders, I’d be surprised if 12-pounders aren’t coming along.”
“One positive about the new islander cannon showing up is that the men won’t grouse as much when ordered to pull back,” said the major. “As the people fled Shullick, they dumped more of what they were carrying, and the pickings over the discards got better. One platoon found a chest of silver coins and almost got into a fight among themselves about how to divvy it up.”
Zulfa allowed himself a smile. Looting was acceptable, if it didn’t impact achieving objectives, something that this mission had more than accomplished. Zulfa and the other officers could afford to look the other way about sporadic pillaging.
He put away the telescope and took his horse’s reins from an aide. “Let’s get them pulling back, Major. I want everyone within Shullick by nightfall. We’ll finish razing the city tomorrow and be back aboard ship the day after that. I think we’ve timed it right and we’ll have accomplished the maximum damage before the other clans can get here.”
Town of Wrexton, Eywell Province
Denes Vegga watched the last of the eight hundred Eywellese citizens leave the town of Wrexton, ten miles inside Eywell Province from the Keelan border. They took with them only what they could grab, as Denes’s men swept through the town at dawn and drove the populace to the north. What little armed resistance they offered was dealt with harshly and decisively. Otherwise, the Eywellese were unharmed physically. The emotional and economic consequences to the Eywellese people were not Denes’s concern.
“Ser Vegga . . . er . . . Colonel Vegga, Major Sixwith says the town is clear,” said a “captain.” The use of ranks was still new enough to Denes and the men of the reaction force that all of them had to keep reminding themselves and one another to use the titles. Denes hadn’t understood the need for such labels, though he accepted Yozef’s arguments about delineating specific numbers of men into groupings, such as squad, platoon, company, battalion, and, as Yozef called the reaction force, a regiment requiring a “colonel” in charge. Thus, Denes was a colonel. Colonel Denes Vegga, commanding the 1st Regiment, composed of twelve hundred dragoons, twenty 6-pounders, and a hundred support personnel for supplies and medical treatment. The full name was the 1st Mixed Dragoon Regiment, to recognize that its members came from different clans, although the exact membership changed as men rotated through the training, with the exception of officers down to the captains. These were on semi-permanent loan from their clans, part of the effort to get clans accustomed to working together.
Denes didn’t attempt to follow Yozef’s reasoning on the naming system, except that Yozef said only that another regiment forming near Caernford and composed entirely of Keelanders would be called the 2nd Regiment or the 2nd Keelan Dragoon Regiment.
The captain, a Gwillamese, belonged to the battalion of Major Sixwith, a Keelander. The other battalion was commanded by Major Kildorn, an Oroszian, and the artillery by another Keelander. That second battalion and the artillery provided security west and north of Wrexton, while Major Sixwith’s men cleared the town.
“Tell Major Sixwith he has thirty minutes to start the fires and have his men formed on the road west,” said Denes. There would be no looting. Nothing to slow their passage, beyond the time needed to destroy what they could. When they left, the town of Wrexton would be burning, and the citizens literally left with only the clothes on their backs. As far as Denes was concerned, all Eywellese deserved whatever happened to them for betraying the other clans and allying with the Narthani, and they should thank God for the mercy being shown by the clans’ not killing all of the men.
Denes rode to Major Kildorn’s position west of the town. He found Kildorn standing near a battery of five 6-pounders, talking to the battery commander, as smoke rose from Wrexton.
“Colonel, I take it the town is cleared, and you’ve given the order to burn it?” asked Kildorn. The major had taken to the rank structure and scrupulously used it.
“Yes. I gave Major Sixwith thirty minutes to finish and be here, ready to follow your battalion. Start forming up and signal to pull in the more distant pickets. Any interesting information from the
Eywellese you questioned?”
A company of Kildorn’s men had circled the town before daylight to block anyone escaping to the west with warnings. They didn’t care about the north, because the nearest town that might have enough fighting men to be a threat lay fifty miles away. By the time word reached inland to the more populated parts of Eywell Province, the reaction force planned to have completed their mission and be back near or inside Keelan Province.
The blockage had worked. They stopped close to a hundred Eywellese heading west. Denes hoped that none got through to sound alarms.
Kildorn had instructions from Denes to interrogate as many of the Eywellese men as he could in the time available. “No information that might cause us to change the plan,” said Kildorn. “The land is flat, as we see it, almost all the way to the Preddi border. There’re five or six fishing villages, the men disagreed on the exact number, and no towns right on the water after this one. One of the men is from Neath, the Eywell town eighteen to twenty miles north of the coast. He confirms the population there is about three thousand. They have about two hundred fighting men, in addition to any others who are willing to pick up a musket or sword. No regular Narthani are stationed there, although fifty-man patrols pass through.
“If we stick to the coast, there’s hardly anything to stop us until we reach Ponth, the town just over the border into Preddi. Another man claimed there were a hundred Narthani foot soldiers in Ponth. I would have expected their cavalry. However, Preddi City itself is only twenty miles farther, and he confirms there’s a shitload of Narthani there. He volunteered that the Narthani have had a hair up their asses, building fortifications all around Preddi City, with what sounds like forts out as far as ten miles from the city.”
Heavier Than a Mountain (Destiny's Crucible Book 3) Page 48
