Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4)

by Olan Thorensen

  “As soon as their men report we’re behind them, won’t they turn on us and we wouldn’t have time to prepare anything?” protested Denes.

  “That’s the key,” said Yozef. “They’d need to be far enough into the valley and occupied enough to give us time. One way would be for our people facing the Narthani to engage them enough to hold their attention.”

  “Despite all your warnings about not getting into a field engagement with them?” asked Gartherid.

  Yozef grimaced. “It might be a price we have to pay. If it costs a thousand men to close the trap and we rid the island of the Narthani, wouldn’t it be worth the price?”

  “This ‘warfare’ is a hard thing, Yozef,” said Denes. “Just like you warned us. As much as I hate to say it, even if it cost five thousand men, it would be justified, if it gave us victory and saved the clans.”

  It might cost more, Yozef thought, but I don’t see a reason to spread worst-case scenarios.

  “But time?” said Gartherid. “Say they’re in the valley. How do we build enough fortifications across two mile before they turn on us?”

  Yozef shrugged. “No one said it would be easy. We’d have to have mountains of pre-positioned supplies. Depending on the final design, it could include tools, timbers, sandbags to be filled, mines, and . . . hell, I don’t know what else off the top of my head.” He stopped speaking and looked into the distance, then his voice took on a “talking to himself” tone.

  “Let’s see . . . digging on a massive scale quickly would be involved . . . I wonder . . . ”

  Denes and Gartherid looked at each other and shrugged. Both were accustomed to Yozef drifting away when thinking or hearing whispers, depending on how much credence the listener gave to rumors.

  “Moving earth . . . that’s a key,” Yozef mumbled. He knelt and used a knife to dig past grass. “The soil is loose. Sediment left from however these gaps formed. I’ll bet it’s deep, too. A grader, one of those big machines you see on highway projects on Earth, could make a hell of a ditch in this soil in a day. Of course, I don’t have a grader.”

  He didn’t notice he’d used the words Earth and grader mixed in with Caedelli. However, it didn’t matter. Denes and Gartherid had no reference frame on which to hang two strange words, and strange words whose meaning Yozef never explained were not unusual for anyone spending extended time around him.

  “No graders, but they have horse-drawn plows, and those are soil-movers. We’d just need to scale up.” Yozef remembered old photos of large farm machinery drawn by twenty to forty horses or mules before mechanization. A flash from his sporadic enhanced memory pulled up a photo and a caption of a thirty-horse team able to plow twenty-five acres per day and another story of big teams the pioneers needed the first time they plowed the deep root mats that existed on United States’ Great Plains grassland. “Maybe we can make our own graders,” he muttered. “With enough large teams pulling metal blades, they could dig a pretty impressive trench in a day.”

  He became aware of the other men watching and waiting for him to come back from wherever he’d drifted off to. “Large teams of horses could pull a metal blade that cuts into the soil. The blade would be slanted to push the scraped-up soil to the side of the trench, where it would be used to form a berm. I don’t know the exact shape and size of the blade, so experimenting should begin immediately.”

  Gartherid Kennrick furiously scratched notes, using quill, ink, and paper he’d pulled out of a satchel. When Yozef paused, Gartherid blurted, “Does this mean you’ll be adding this site to the final list?”

  “Uh . . . I don’t . . . Denes, what do you think?”

  “I don’t like it. The other two sites have far more potential. There are too many problems with this one, the main one of which is buying enough time to build defensive positions that could stop a determined attack by such a large Narthani army. We’d have to accept that we’d be working while a large number of our men fended off initial Narthani attacks, and then everyone would fall back behind whatever defenses we’d finished when the Narthani pressure became too great. We’d have no way to know the state of the defenses before we needed them. Even if that worked, they might be able to get enough men over the ridges to attack us from the rear.”

  “So you don’t believe in this site?” asked Yozef.

  Denes shook his head. “Just because I hate it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do what we can to prepare it. There’s no site being prepared in southern Caedellium. What if circumstances require us to draw them in this direction? We’d have no place to make a stand with the requirements you’ve presented.

  “There’s also the practicality of being this far south. The people who would work preparing this site are too far from the Coast and Glacier sites to help there, so we wouldn’t lose their time and effort, if this site doesn’t work. This site is also relatively near major Keelan towns that could support the work. Amurth is only sixteen miles away, Tyndal twenty-seven miles, and Rummeln twenty-nine miles. None of them are critical for other production.”

  “All right,” said Yozef, “let’s make this the third site, subject to some further thinking and planning over the next few days. We need to make a decision on our recommendation before the next War Council meeting. We leave in a few days. Gartherid, when we get back to Caernford, you and the others at MIU will need to prepare a detailed estimation of what we would need to turn where we stand into a third battlefield site. Let’s continue calling it the ‘Gap Site.’”

  Caernford, Balwis Preddi

  “Sit down, Balwis,” said Yozef. He had come back the previous day from visiting the Gap Site and had used the return trip to make a decision about his previous bodyguard. The man was not quite a friend, but Yozef had begun to like Balwis.

  “Before we start, I’ve been curious about something. You don’t have to answer, because it’s only to satisfy my own curiosity, but why do you go by the last name of Preddi? When I first met you, you said it was the name you chose.”

  “My family name was Hollerwin,” said Balwis. “Before I escaped, I saw how the Narthani were well on their way to obliterating the existence of the Preddi Clan. So many were killed or shipped off Caedellium, and so many of those remaining were cowed into submission. I could foresee that the clan would vanish even from memory by the next generation. I wasn’t oblivious to the stupidity of our hetman or so many other leaders in allowing the Narthani to become too powerful to stop, but it was still my clan. The people were only badly served by their leaders. When I escaped, I guess I thought that calling myself ‘Preddi’ was a bit of defiance. Now, it seems childish, but I’d just cause confusion if I changed back, which I’ll do if . . . once we drive the Narthani away.

  “I also obsessed about doing something to bedevil the damned Narthani, and I didn’t want to use my family name and take the chance of causing problems for those relatives still in Preddi.” Balwis sighed. “I know. Grandiose ideas, but I was so angry, any little bit of defiance helped, no matter how small.”

  Yozef felt gratified. What Balwis revealed matched what Yozef had observed in the man—anger that had shown signs of easing in the last months. Not that Balwis didn’t project anger much of the time, but it appeared more focused.

  He had “ordered” Balwis to see him at the Keelan Clan headquarters in Caernford—not asked or requested, as was his usual format. He wanted to see if the man would be annoyed at the tone of the summons and take his time. Yozef could envision Balwis thinking, Let him wait on me. But Balwis reported exactly on time, though he slouched into the room and flopped into an unoffered chair.

  Yozef sat behind a desk, papers spread out, quill in hand. “I have a report that when you were involved in sweeping Preddi territory south of Preddi City, you attacked a Narthani patrol, even though your assignment was to avoid direct fights, if possible.”

  “It was only fifty or so of them and a hundred of us. It was too good an opportunity to kill some Narthani, and I took it. So what?”

&nbs
p; Yozef sat back in his chair and put down the quill.

  “So what is that you lost six men killed and ten wounded out of your hundred men.”

  “We killed twenty-nine Narthani.”

  Yozef’s calm demeanor vanished.

  “I don’t give a God-damn graeko’s ass how many Narthani you killed!” Yozef shouted. “You were to only observe the Narthani and gather slaves you could free and capture civilian men. You got sixteen of your hundred men killed or wounded!”

  Balwis was shocked—something of a novelty for him. He had never heard Yozef shout like this. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever seen Yozef as furious as he now appeared to be. The initial shock turned quickly to anger as Balwis’s face reddened.

  “Me and my men are out there ready to die to kill Narthani and not sitting here where it’s safe!” he shouted back.

  “Your damn duty is to follow assignments so that we can end up killing all the Narthani, not satisfying your idiotic compulsion to kill Narthani even if your own men die. You are the leader, Balwis, which means you are responsible for each and every one of their lives. If we’re going to be victorious, it requires everyone to do what’s best for all of Caedellium and the men you command. Your own urges are not only dangerous to your men, but dangerous to other units and the entire campaign. You were given command of a hundred men. All reports are they have turned into a fine fighting unit, but if you can’t control yourself, then you will command no one.

  “And try to remember, your task is not to die or get your men killed fighting for Caedellium. As George C. Scott would say, your task is to lead your men well enough that the Narthani die for Narthon.”

  It was only later that Balwis wondered who George C. Scott was.

  Yozef’s voice had been loud enough that the staff in the next room heard every word.

  Balwis was so angry he couldn’t speak, but a sliver of sense finally kept his mouth shut, and Yozef continued.

  “You are now dismissed from here. I don’t want to see you again this day. You come back tomorrow and convince me that you are worthy of leading a company of men dependent on you.”

  Balwis stomped out of the office, walked straight past his horse, and walked a mile to where his company was encamped. His fury ebbed as he contemplated that they might remove him from command. They had been together for nearly five months, first as a platoon and then expanding into a company. The “chain-of-command” organization had taken some time for everyone to become accustomed to, but the troops gradually came to understand the need to have clarity of action during the confusion of combat. Several minor skirmishes with the Eywellese had solidified their feelings as a unit, and Balwis knew they were among the most respected of the newly formed companies. The frustration at not killing any Narthani had gotten the best of him when they spied the patrol. As he considered the fight, his own actions and feelings, and the lessons Yozef and the Fuomi were trying to drum into the islanders, Balwis’s anger subsided.

  The main reason he reconsidered his own acts was how Yozef had chewed him out. That wasn’t like Yozef—unless what the often-infuriating man said was true. Balwis spent several hours pacing hard away from their camp. The next morning, he stood waiting for Yozef at the building’s main door. Yozef only said, “Follow me,” in his normal voice. Once both had taken a seat, Yozef looked at him directly.

  “Have you considered what we talked about yesterday?”

  “I have considered what you said to me. I don’t remember saying much myself.”

  “And what is your conclusion?”

  “When I ordered the attack on the Narthani patrol, I was selfish and thought only of how I felt and not beyond that. I also think I understand why you yelled at me for not following the assignment, and you are right. If every man, every leader, only does what he wants to at that moment, we probably can’t defeat the Narthani. I also think I can accept your argument that to kill all the Narthani, we have to be disciplined.”

  “What of the lives of your men?”

  “I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t consider the men as much as I should have. Not only do their lives depend on my decisions, but for us to kill the most Narthani will require conserving our lives as carefully as possible.

  “I will also say—and this isn’t meant as an excuse, only an observation—that I’m not qualified to lead a company of men in this type of warfare. I have too little experience, even if I swear I’ll do better to, as you say in your On War, think rationally, instead of emotionally. I’ll understand if you put me back as a platoon commander, where I feel I’m more qualified.”

  Yozef sat back in his chair and smiled. “Think on this, Balwis. None of us are qualified to do what we’re doing. I’m not qualified to plan a campaign to drive the Narthani off Caedellium. Denes and Hetman Stent are not qualified to be brigadiers leading ten thousand men. Owill Brell is not qualified to lead the MIU. I doubt if many of our majors, captains, and on down the ranks are qualified for what we’re asking of them. It’s the necessity that drives all of this. We simply have no choice, and everyone has to do the best they can.”

  Balwis nodded. “I agree with you. All I can do is promise to do the best I can from here on.”

  “Does this mean you think you are a man who can be trusted to both value the lives of his men and carry out assignments as assigned in the future?”

  “Yes,” said Balwis firmly. “I give you my word on this.”

  “In that case, you are no longer Captain Preddi, leading a mixed company of Preddi clansmen and escaped Narthani slaves.”

  Balwis felt crushed, but before he could appeal, Yozef continued.

  “You are now Major Balwis, commander of a mixed battalion of Preddi and escaped slaves. Your platoon leaders are promoted to company captains, and you and your captains may choose platoon and squad leaders for four companies. The men to fill the ranks will start joining you within a sixday. Some have been living with other clans, and I understand that many are slaves we liberated and are eager to fight. You are to train and prepare for dangerous and important assignments that can only be given to a strong battalion with a leader who both values the lives of his men and can carry out assignments as they are given. Are there any questions?”

  For once, Balwis had no words on the tip of his tongue. After a few moments, he said almost desperately, “How can you expect me to lead a battalion when we both just agreed I’m not qualified to be a company commander?”

  Having far too often the same feelings about himself, Yozef was sympathetic. “We’re expanding our units as fast as we can. This new battalion will be formed, no matter who leads. If you can rationally tell me who is more qualified to lead it, I will reconsider assigning him as its commander.”

  Balwis opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mouth closed, then opened again with the same result. After the third time, Yozef spoke with sympathy etched in his words.

  “In that case, return to your company and start preparing to receive the additional men. You should also think about what you’ll need to station the battalion in Orosz City, instead of Caernford. Culich, the MIU, and I will be moving there, because we all need to be in a more central location to coordinate the clans’ activities. It would also help you in forming the new battalion, because many of the new men will come from all over the island.”

  After Balwis left, Yozef stared at the closed door. He’ll do his best. I just sit here and don’t have to look in the faces of men I send to danger. He’s going from leading a hundred men to four hundred. If what I imagine is coming, in a few months he might find himself commanding a regiment of dragoons consisting of battalions of Preddi, ex-slaves, and who knows what other scattered bits of men. It’ll be a motley crew, and we’ll need someone tough to keep them together as a unit. He’ll have enough trials with a battalion. No point in telling him that about the time he starts thinking he’s getting a handle on it, we might bump him up again and put him right back into feeling lost and unqualified.

  CHAPTER
32: PREPARE TO MOVE

  The Kolsko family’s decision to move to Orosz City required different preparations than Yozef and Maera’s move to Caernford. Yozef answered Maera’s question about whether they would take any furniture with a firm “no,” to suppress any suggestion their relocation was anything but temporary. They would take clothes, books, and paperwork required by Yozef and Maera and little else. Yozef’s selection of what to take took an hour and Anarynd’s not much longer. She hadn’t had time to accumulate many things since arriving in Caernford. Maera took considerably more time, but once everyone had made a decision, it fell to Anarynd to pack for all of them. Maera spent most of her time at the MIU building, helping prepare the rest of the unit’s move to Orosz City.

  Yozef needed to interact with his various projects, particularly the ones reaching fruition. He also intended to transfer projects still in development to Orosz City, if there was a chance of their succeeding in time to be useful. Other projects were shut down until they had more time.

  Balloons

  Hot-air balloons were one of the first innovations Yozef thought of once he grew earnest about playing a major role in fighting the Narthani. This also turned into a prime example of his giving minimal descriptions to a work crew and leaving it to them to work out the details. In this case, he drew a crude diagram of a gondola hanging under a round, open-bottomed globe, with a large, unshielded lantern burning under the globe. He asserted to the workers that if they built it right, the hot air from the flame would rise into the airtight globe, causing the balloon to float upward. How they could get the cloth airtight for the balloon, how big to make the globe, how to keep the globe’s shape before attempting to make it rise, and how to determine the size and form of the lantern were among the “minor” details he left out after expressing total confidence in the dubious workers.