An aide handed Denes a quill and ink, and he pulled a map out of his saddlebag and made notations. “We won’t get close enough to Preddi City to stir up that nest. Ponth is our target. That’s assuming we can move fast enough and surprise the Narthani. What about north of Ponth?”
“Three towns about the size of Wrexton to the north and northwest of Ponth,” said Kildorn. “One is ten miles away and the other two a little farther.”
“Well,” said Denes, “the closer one might get our attention. It will depend on what we run into. Our scouts are only three miles out from Wrexton, which makes me uneasy, but we’re assuming speed is better than being more cautious. Once we get to the Preddi border, we’ll push the scouts out to ten miles and see what we shall see. At the first sign of serious opposition, we’ll head back home.”
“Both sound good,” said the Oroszian major. “Destroying what we can and putting a scare into both the Eywellese and the Narthani and then getting out with our skins intact.”
Moreland Province, Five Miles from the Eywell Border
Welman Stent read, for the third time, the written message from Yozef Kolsko. Between each reading, he looked again at the man who had given him the message and the four other men standing farther back, holding their horses’ reins. The evident leader was of good height and a rangy build, but his distinguishing features were a facial scar and eyes that reminded Welman of a predator. The other four men all appeared just as rough-looking, especially a short, wiry man with one hand heavily bandaged.
Welman Stent held the sheet in one hand and slapped it with the other. “If this didn’t come from Yozef Kolsko, I’d know whoever thought this up is insane. Since it is Kolsko, I’ll reserve that I only suspect he’s lost his mind. And you’re the idiots he’s convinced to try this?”
“That’s us,” answered Balwis, the description of himself and his four companions evidently having no effect.
Welman sighed and shook his head. “If you’re set on committing suicide, who am I to naysay? I’ve enough to worry about, so you’ll be on your own. I can’t divert any attention or men. It will be hard enough controlling the mix of men I’ve got.”
“I noticed your men are riding under clan banners, Hetman Stent,” stated Balwis.
Welman grimaced. “I know the rapid-reaction force in Keelan has mixed up the men from different clans, but we started later and haven’t yet had enough success in convincing the men to work together or take orders from someone of a different clan. I had no choice but to leave them in companies made up of just one clan.”
“I’m not sure which of us has the harder task,” said Balwis.
“It’s going to take a lot more Narthani to give us trouble than it will for you,” said Welman. “At first light tomorrow, we’ll cross into Eywell territory and tear through several villages before getting to Hanslow. We know two thousand Narthani had amassed there at one time. The latest word is that only about twelve hundred remain. Of course, then there’s the Eywellese and probably another thousand or so fighting men in the city or nearby. Although the Eywellese pulled their people back farther into the province, they still patrol heavily, mainly at the border and around Hanslow. If you can slip through the border patrols, you might get to within a few miles of the city, though it’s far too risky, if you ask me.”
“Not your concern, Hetman.”
“The most I can do for you is let you talk to my man who has led a group watching the Eywellese patrol the border. We never see Narthani cavalry, except near Hanslow, and the Eywellese patrols cover only about a mile from the border. Farther into Eywell they don’t patrol. He can tell you the best times to slip through. Once there, it’s a clear path to Hanslow, if you travel at night and avoid main roads.
“The Narthani are mainly foot soldiers, though an escapee has reported they’ve been training more of their infantry to ride horses. The only cannon they have are their standard 12-pounders, like the ones we captured at Moreland City. Those are not suited to accompany their cavalry or our dragoons, so we should be able to fight off any Eywellese attack and outrun any Narthani we don’t want to confront. My intention is to circle the city at about ten miles, razing villages, burning bridges and crops, and doing whatever damage we can. We’ll feint at Hanslow, if the opportunity arises and we’re not threatened, but our purpose is to arouse and threaten, not get into a serious battle.”
“Thank you, Hetman, that’s useful. However, I think we can also help you,” asserted Balwis. “If we’re successful, there should be chaos among the Narthani leadership, and they might hesitate to send men outside the city walls until the leadership is more organized.”
“If you’re successful, that may true,” said Welman, his manner making it clear he had slim expectations of Balwis and his men completing their mission. “Although you might be lucky. From the clouds we see coming from the south, there’s a good chance of rain over the next couple of days. This time of year, the rain comes in waves in this part of Caedellium. Assuming you can get past the patrols and assuming no one sees you before you get to Hanslow and assuming the gap you say is in the city wall above the river is still there, then who knows? Maybe then your chances of coming out of this alive are somewhere above zero.”
“Good luck to you also, Hetman,” said Balwis, smiling. “We’ll grab some sleep, and then, if your man can help us through the Eywellese patrols, we’ll try to reach within a few miles of Hanslow before nightfall. Depending on weather and if we can find the way inside, we’ll act and be out of the city before light. With your move into Eywell, we suspect they won’t be as committed to searching for us as they otherwise would have been.”
Welman shook his head once again. “God go with you. You’re going to need all the help he can give.”
Narthani Headquarters, Preddi City
Administrator Nizam Tuzere had dressed as impeccably as always, although Akuyun detected an unusual edge to the overseer of nonmilitary personnel on Caedellium.
“The civilians are nervous, General, as I’ve reported before. Not unexpected, what with Zulfa away with twenty-five hundred men, leaving fewer regular troops visible, plus the militia training and fortification construction contributing to the unease. No disturbances, but there’s no question everyone knows things aren’t the same as six months ago. One upside is that merchants and the more highly placed Narthani have made fewer petty complaints. I doubt they see their own problems as any less important, but at least they aren’t as persistent as before.”
Akuyun appeared attentive to Tuzere’s report, though his mind was elsewhere, particularly three hundred miles north-northwest at the capital of Swavebroke Province. The regular command staff meeting would go on as always, minus two members: Brigadier Aivacs Zulfa, who commanded the attack on Swavebroke, and Admiral Morfred Kalcan, naval commander of the mission to Caedellium. Akuyun missed both Kalcan and Zulfa at staff meetings. Kalcan’s perennial good humor and Zulfa’s capability always reassured him. Not that the three other military men attending today were incompetent. None of them would have passed Akuyun’s approval otherwise. Ketin and Metin were solid colonels. Ketin might rise higher, but Akuyun had identified him as an officer to take along to his next command and believed Ketin would make a superb engineering brigadier for a corps. In comparison, Metin also functioned as a respectable regiment commander, though Akuyun doubted he would rise further.
Erdelin, the outlier of the three colonels, was personally brave, just short of reckless. He had also shown more decisiveness at Moreland City than Akuyun would have expected. Despite it being his wing of the deployment that suffered the clan’s flanking attack, Erdelin had responded quickly enough to save the day from being a complete disaster. However, Akuyun disliked the man personally and had to keep that opinion from slipping into his evaluations. Erdelin might rise higher and serve the Empire well, though not again under Akuyun.
Akuyun turned to Assessor Sadek Hizer. “Any more news about the strike teams, Sadek?”
�
��Still only the one for Skouks. The team got back to their sloop with only two losses and three wounded. The hetman was killed for certain, and they think possibly one of his sons. As for the other two teams, no word yet. The sloops will stay on station for another sixday. If they aren’t contacted by the team, they’ll return here.”
Akuyun didn’t bring up the part of the Skouks team leader’s report that stated matter-of-factly that all persons at the site of the attack had been killed. Akuyun knew from pre-mission planning that the Skouks hetman had been at a daughter’s home. If all died, that included the hetman’s wife, his daughter and her husband, their six children, and whatever servants, guards, and other families were unfortunate enough to be present. He hadn’t said anything, except to his wife, Rabia, to whom he wished the hetman’s younger grandchildren had been spared.
Akuyun shifted in his chair and tried to put unpleasant images from his mind. “One out of three is still a success, Sadek. Along with the Swavebroke attack, these should cause the clans to pull inward to protect their own.”
Akuyun saw no reason to express his concern that the exact opposite might result. Instead, he voiced optimism. “Last reports from Aivacs stated that all had gone well, and they would finish destroying everything within twenty miles of the Shullick harbor and be back aboard ship no later than tomorrow afternoon, then back here by the next morning.”
CHAPTER 36: FOUR DAYS LATER
Hanslow, Eywell Province
After leaving Hetman Stent, the guide led them past Eywellese patrols and left them a mile and a half inside Eywell.
“This is as far as I go. Even though the Eywellese don’t run patrols any farther from the border, watch out for the Narthani. For the next twenty miles, there aren’t many patrols until you get closer to Hanslow, and they don’t keep to a schedule. Avoid villages and farms. My advice is keep to the forest patches, as much as possible. They curve southwest and back toward Hanslow. It’ll take you some miles out of a direct line to the city but with less chance of being seen.
Following the guide’s advice, after four hours of creep and hide, they had progressed only three miles closer to Hanslow.
“Fuck this,” said Kales, after they hid from a farm wagon carrying hay. “There’s only a couple of hours of light left. If we’re not within sight of the city by midnight, there’s no way we can get about doing this tonight. We’ll have to chance it. Act like we have every reason to be on these roads.”
The moon Aedan and the stars gave enough illumination to reveal the outline of Hanslow a mile from the forest where Balwis, Kales, and their three companions stood. From there, the trees and the brush gave way to grass across open terrain before reaching the river. Its far bank had a scree-covered slope a hundred and fifty yards up to Hanslow’s main wall. Balwis had been here before. On his first trip to Hanslow, he and his father had camped not more than a half-mile away. They had let their horses graze in the grassy field before delivering them to their new owner in the city. Balwis remembered his fourteen-year-old-self swimming naked in the river, only to scurry for his clothes when women on the wall high above shamed him with their jeers. He smiled briefly at the memory and how his father had laughed at his red-faced son. The pleasant memory faded, as he returned to the task at hand.
Standing next to Kales as they perused the Hanslow walls, Balwis marveled at the man’s toughness. He had survived the 180-mile ride in as good a shape as any of the others, even with the wound that must have pained him the whole way.
“Aw . . . I’ve ridden farther with worse,” was all Kales would say when Balwis had checked on him fifty miles from Caernford.
* * *
Balwis had been dubious when Kales told him he would be coming along to Hanslow.
“Kales,” Balwis said, “you lost two fingers not sixteen hours ago and got a shotgun pellet alongside your skull. Both have got to hurt like hell, and how are you going to ride a horse as hard as we’ll have to ride? Then what? You’re a one-handed man and would be a handicap.”
Kales’s curses would have melted bronze. After a minute and Balwis’s admiration for the man’s repertoire, Kales subsided enough to form complete sentences.
“I’ve been hurt worse than this. And I’m not one-handed, only missing part of one. Even one-handed, I’d be able to handle any Eywellese we’re likely to run into. This won’t be a battle, this will be skulking around and silencing any unlucky individuals who come across us.”
Balwis didn’t ask for further details of why Kales obviously considered himself expert in “silencing,” though Balwis had his own suspicions about how Kales had spent the twenty-three years he’d lived off Caedellium.
“Yes, God curse it, the blasted hand hurts, but it’s hurt, not missing. You get everything else ready, and I’ll meet you in the Caernford central square in three hours, ready to go.”
“I’m not convinced,” said Balwis, “and we won’t slow down for you. If you can keep up all the way to Hanslow, then we’ll see.”
Balwis hesitated, while he considered two thoughts. One was that he wouldn’t bet against Kales being true to his boasts. He didn’t have personal experience witnessing Kales in action, but the man had taken down three Narthani in the dark before being struck unconscious. If he could make it to Hanslow in good condition, he might be an asset.
The second thought was that he saw no reason to bother Yozef about Kales’s participation. Yozef would insist Kales couldn’t go.
“All right,” said Balwis. “See you there, but make it two hours. It won’t take the rest of us any longer to get ready. We’ll bring extra horses, including ones for you.”
Two hours later, Kales waited next to a three-story building flanking the square. Balwis reined in and dismounted. The other three men he’d picked stayed on their horses. They had volunteered when told the target. All three were ex-Narthani slaves, one from Preddi and two from off-island, and all were members of the dragoon platoon of Narthani escapees.
Kales didn’t say anything, just held up the arm with his injured hand. The bulky bandage had been replaced by a tight wrap covering the wound and fastened to the wrist. Around the forearm were several leather straps whose purpose puzzled Balwis.
Kales reached to his side and from a scabbard pulled out what appeared to be a spearhead. Most Caedellium spearheads had a hollow base that the shaft fit into, and rivets through the spearhead base and the shaft further held the two together. The spearhead Kales held out had a base of flat metal, an inch wide. Balwis had seen a few like this, where the base slid into a slotted shaft, and glue or twine held the two together.
Kales slid the base between straps on his forearm, pulled a loose strap end, and gripped the upper portion of the base with his thumb and two remaining figures. He waved it several times, then pantomimed stabbing and slashing motions. Balwis imagined the result. The blade was three inches wide and thick, with a rounded upper edge tapering to a point. Balwis could picture it serving as a short sword and didn’t doubt the damage it could do.
“All right,” said Balwis, “I can see you handling yourself in a blade fight, which is more what we’re likely to face than firearms. What if there’s climbing?”
Kales yanked on another strap end to pull the spearhead out and re-sheathed it. He reached into the pack at his feet for a metal hand-sized claw with a metal rod attached. He shoved the rod into the same position as the spearhead base, pulled a strap, and tugged on the claw to be sure it was firmly in place. Then Kales reached back into sack for two larger claws he stepped into and fastened. Finally, a second smaller claw went on the free hand, the strap tightened by his teeth.
Kales turned to the stone building and started to climb, as if walking on all fours across a horizontal surface. At the top of the second story, he stopped and looked down.
“Satisfied, or should I go all the way up?”
“No, that’s fine,” said Balwis. “I knew there was a reason I wanted you along.”
The four men laughed, and even
Kales grinned.
***
They had watched the city for the last hour.
“What do you think?” Balwis asked Kales. “Wait another hour?”
“Too soon,” answered Kales. “We’ll wait till most lights are out. Otherwise, there’ll be too many people on the streets.”
“That’ll only give us three or four hours to find the villa and get back out before the sun’s up,” said Balwis.
“Can’t be helped,” said Kales. “We’ll have to be quick.”
Balwis turned back to look at the city and the many lights still shining from tower windows. For a moment, he felt eyes looking straight at them, and the thought rose that they still had time to abort. He quickly quashed the thought, as he recalled the night of the attack. He remembered the man coming at him while he was occupied with another attacker, and Ceinwyn hitting the man with a small chair. The man had staggered, then slashed at Ceinwyn. Moments later, it seemed like many minutes, Balwis remembered going over to Ceinwyn, lying shocked on the floor. The flap of her cheek hung below her jaw, her teeth and tongue visible. He had held the flap back in place until someone came to relieve him, so he could go with Yozef to see Maera off to Caernford and then search the back property for Kales.
He also remembered Norlin and Anid, neither of whom he knew well, both young and full of life. Both now dead.
He remembered Yozef’s icy demeanor, so different from how he usually behaved. For the first time, Balwis felt a personal kinship with Yozef. Although he had respected Yozef and knew he had been pivotal in how they’d resisted the Narthani, Balwis hadn’t felt they shared emotions, until now.
Heavier Than a Mountain (Destiny's Crucible Book 3) Page 49
