A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  Then, Kolinkan ships would approach the Nollagen harbor, take aboard the Kolinkan men and their prisoners, and abandon the horses. The squadron would finally set sail for Kolinka.

  As Holuska went over the plan yet once again, he thought, Well . . . it should work. We certainly have more than enough men to overcome the small protection detachment that I confirmed accompanies the Paramount.

  He squinted. He was sure he could just make out the ship. Two minutes later, he was certain. Twenty minutes later, a longboat beached, and six men jumped out into the foot-deep water. They slogged to where he was standing above the waterline.

  Five men ran past Holuska. Being sure the beach is secure, he thought. He fought the urge to reassure them but suppressed it. He would’ve done the same and not trusted the words of someone he had never met.

  “Holuska?” the sixth man called out as he approached.

  “Yes. How was the voyage?”

  “I’m Maklos Bota, second in command to Orno Kistek, leader of the raid. He’s waiting back on the flagship.”

  Bota spit to one side. “As for the voyage . . . it wasn’t quite an unmitigated disaster, but we came close to calling it all off. If it hadn’t been the third time we’d made this trip, we would’ve done it. We spotted a Fuomi sloop at twilight two days ago. The bastards were a good fifty to a hundred miles farther offshore than they were supposed to be. They were running with lanterns lit, and we were dark, so we don’t think they spotted us at that range. However, we had to lower all sails and couldn’t adjust positions to keep the ships from rolling too much for the horses. Commander Kistek thinks we may have at least a hundred horses so injured or spooked that they aren’t usable. It leaves us short of horses, and that’s including some we’ll have to use that we otherwise wouldn’t.”

  “What does that mean for the raid? You still have your men.”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem, but you know how that goes. We’re going to unload the best horses here. Once you get us word Kolsko has passed, some men will then ride quickly to seal off Grastor Road. The others unloaded here will head to Nollagen. The rest of the men and remaining usable horses will make the second landing. It’s not as essential for all of them to be on horseback because they’re mainly blocking the road and will move toward Nollagen, even if it’s on foot. After all, it’s only five or six miles. But that’s all irrelevant unless you can confirm the target is following the schedule.”

  “Kolsko’s party is supposed to spend tomorrow morning near Stiltern Fall before heading to Nollagen,” said Holuska. “However, I need to keep an eye on the road to be sure we don’t miss them or commit before they pass. I’ll get back to an observation point I picked out. Send a couple of men with me so they can return to you as soon as I see the target moving along the road.”

  “But you do confirm they’re where they’re supposed to be?” asked Bota.

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry. It works in our favor that Kolsko has to be at the new semaphore station for the inaugural ceremony with Hetman Seaborn. They’re supposed to camp at the mountain’s base the day before. That means being in Nollagen tomorrow. It might actually be to our benefit if they come early. Gives us more daylight to do what needs to be done.”

  CHAPTER 34

  STILTERN FALL

  After climbing out of the Yastern Valley, the caravan slowly descended into open terrain with farms starting three miles from Grastor. The town was a miniature version of Brudermyn, with about one-third the population. They had not sent word ahead of their approach, but scattered individuals and small groups stood alongside the road and waved the last mile to the city center. There, several thousand citizens lined the street, shouting greetings and waving.

  “What do you think, Synton?” asked Yozef. “Are the people here naturally friendlier than in Brudermyn, or did Hetman Seaborn order a better reception?”

  Synton looked over his shoulder at Carnigan riding behind. “Has he always been like this— asking questions he has to know you don’t know the answer to?”

  “Well . . . sometimes he knows you don’t know the answer, and sometimes he’s not sure and asks to check.”

  A gap in the buildings opened up the Grastor harbor view. A shout and a pointing arm from the Pewitt dragoon leader drew Yozef’s attention. Visible down the street was a partial view of fishing boats.

  “So, about a sixday until we’re back here to board ship again?” asked Synton.

  In retrospect, the rest of the day was a blur to Yozef. Greetings from local officials were followed by an evening meal with the town’s mayor and other leading citizens. The event passed undistinguished from too many other days, as far as Yozef was concerned. He noticed Maera acting more reserved than usual. While waiting for the meal to be served, he leaned over and whispered, “You all right?”

  “I just got a little nauseous about the time we reached Grastor. It seems to be passing.”

  “Maybe you should wait here in Grastor until I finish with Yulan and the semaphore ceremony.”

  Maera hesitated in answering, unconsciously telling Yozef she seriously considered the possibility and that what she felt was not minor.

  “Let’s wait until tomorrow morning and see how I feel,” she groused. “If I wasn’t going to complete the tour, I could’ve stayed in Brudermyn and worked before meeting you with the ship here.”

  She paused, then shook her head. “No, I am much better than earlier. I’ve come this far. I wouldn’t want it said that the Paramount’s wife is frail.”

  “I don’t think being pregnant counts as being weak,” said Yozef dryly.

  “This is my third time, and it’s been like the first two. I expect what I was feeling will pass and not return. If it does, it’s no more likely from the effects of traveling than from sitting here in Grastor.”

  The next morning, their caravan left Grastor, heading southwest. Reezo explained that they would follow a valley flanked by high mountains to the right and an escarpment to their left that was equally impassable.

  Contrary to Yozef’s expectations, the roadbed quality was surprisingly good in this less populated part of South Island. However, the pace slowed three miles southwest of Grastor as the road wound and climbed from sea level.

  “The base of Stiltern Fall is almost three thousand feet,” said Zalzar, who once again rode inside the carriage. “However, we change altitude much more than that. We’ll climb and descend several times. Even the downslopes will be slow because the road twists and turns so much. That will change after we leave the fall and head toward Nollagen. The road then will be mainly straight and downhill. This part of the road is slow-enough going that we wouldn’t arrive at Stiltern Fall in time to make Nollagen before dark. That’s why we’ll camp again tonight. We’ll also stop short of the fall. You’ll understand once we’re there. As impressive as the fall is, the roar makes it hard to sleep if you’re too close.”

  Thirty minutes later, Yozef understood Zalzar’s description as they climbed a hill no more than five hundred feet high but whose slope required them to go through a series of switchback turns. Then it was downhill, but the slope’s steepness and curves still meant slow going.

  To their left, the land was a sheer unbroken wall of rock, except for the occasional suggestion of canyons that Zalzar said were blind. To the right lay the impressive mountains that had also been on their right when traveling from Yastern Valley to Grastor. However, the peaks appeared even more impressive. Because the snow and the ice covered a greater percentage of the peaks, Yozef estimated they were several thousand feet higher than the earlier peaks they’d seen, the ones that had hidden those they now passed.

  “Zalzar, I’m wondering why there’s so much less vegetation once we entered the cleft.”

  “It’s the poor soil. Once we approach Nollagen, the land is more fertile, the way it is along most coasts of South Island. The west coast, around Yallvan, is good farming, even though the rainfall is sparse. The only reason farming is still productiv
e around Yallvan is because of so many streams coming from the mountains.”

  Yozef glanced again at the mountains and visualized a map of the island.

  “It must be a rain shadow.”

  Zalzar’s forehead wrinkled. “A rain shadow? I don’t understand.”

  “Uh . . . it’s where . . . uh . . . well, look at the land here. I assume the prevailing weather comes from the east?”

  Zalzar nodded.

  “In that case, the clouds hit the mountains and drop most of the rain. In looking at these peaks, some of them must be fourteen to fifteen thousand feet high. That’s a formidable barrier for rain clouds. If that’s the case, it would explain the lack of rain on the west coast. I also wonder if the main island also forms a partial rain shadow to all of Seaborn.”

  Zalzar’s thoughtful expression conveyed that he was trying to visualize Yozef’s theory.

  “A rain shadow. Yes, I think I understand what you mean. I’ll remember to ask our scholastics in Brudermyn about this.”

  The middle-aged man smiled. “I take it some of the rumors are true about the Paramount pulling pieces of information out of the air as if they were common knowledge.”

  Yozef looked out the window, not wanting to feed the rumors but not knowing what to say. Zalzar looked at Maera. They simultaneously smiled, nodded, and shrugged.

  The up-and-down route continued. Yozef estimated the miles they’d traveled but suspected it was half again more than a straight line on a map. None of the hills within the cleft were large, but the slopes and the required switchbacks seemed never-ending.

  A continuing disappointment was the relative lack of animals, except for several small species he assumed filled the niches of rodents on Earth. After seeing what appeared to be long-extinct Earth species on Caedellium and depicted on the Munjor flag, and hearing Mark’s story about destrex on Drilmar, Yozef had wondered whether there would be more examples on Seaborn.

  “Are there no predators on the Seaborn Islands?” he asked Zalzar.

  “That’s one of the oddities of our province—no large animals that originated here. We have wild krykors that would take over pastureland if they weren’t controlled. As for predators, there are two. The onamarl is an animal that looks like several small animals on the mainland but has bigger teeth and preys on other animals and even on one another.”

  I wonder if it’s a rodent that evolved to be a predator when there wasn’t one on these islands, thought Yozef.

  “Then there’s the lantol,” said Zalzar. It’s a large murvor that flies everywhere over Seaborn, but not so much in the other provinces. The lantol will take birds, other murvors, the small Seaborn animals, and even young krykors, which helps keep them under control. There’re even witnesses of a lantol carrying off a month-old baby.”

  “How big is this lantol?” asked Yozef, aghast at the last comment.

  “The females are large and can be eight feet from wingtip to wingtip. I’ve heard of them getting up to nine feet or more, but I haven’t seen one that large.”

  Yozef unconsciously glanced out the window and upward.

  How big are eagles? he wondered, remembering seeing birds that resembled brown eagles from a distance. I can’t remember. I think the biggest one that ever lived was in New Zealand and preyed on the moas. It went extinct after humans ate all the giant ground birds.

  An hour had passed since the sun had ducked behind the mountain peaks to the right. Carnigan called out, “Looks like a camp ahead of us.”

  The caravan was on a downward trajectory. When the carriage side where Yozef sat was on the downhill side of the road, he leaned his head out the window to see wagons, men, and tents along a stream.

  He had kept an eye on Maera. She had suffered mild initial seasickness after leaving the Penmawr harbor. It had faded, not to return during the rest of the voyage to Brudermyn. Still, he worried that the repeated jolts from the roadbed, the dizzying views whenever her carriage side gave her a downhill perspective, and the sharp turns, when combined with her pregnancy, would bring on motion-sickness, the land version of seasickness.

  He hesitated to ask again how she felt, for fear of being a nag, but she did look a little pale. He also had second thoughts about encouraging her to complete the tour.

  She read his mind. “Yes, I do feel a little nauseous, dear. It should be all right once we stop moving at tonight’s camp.”

  “We’re past the worst of the road,” said Zalzar. “From here to the fall and then on to Nollagen is almost all flat. Then the same all the way back to Grastor. The road follows the coast. There’re no more mountains and only a few low hills. The only serious climb will be up and back down the mountain where the semaphore station was built.”

  Maera sighed. “I think I’ll claim my condition and stay at that night’s camp, Yozef, while you meet Yulan at the top. Only four more nights until we’re back to Grastor. I confess I’m looking forward to getting home and sleeping in my own bed.”

  A slight jolt occurred when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. They were almost off the last hill, and the camp lay two hundred yards ahead. Synton suddenly reined in his horse next to the carriage.”

  “Listen!” urged Synton.

  The three carriage occupants complied, and they could hear a distant noise.

  Yozef frowned. Sounds like a train, he thought—a real train.

  Seconds later, Zalzar spoke. “It’s Stiltern. We’re still a mile away, and the waterfall is recessed into the cliffs.”

  “I see what you meant about the noise,” said Maera. “It must be deafening when you’re at the fall’s base.”

  “It is pretty spectacular,” said Zalzar. “I think you’ll be glad you came, but you’ll also be glad to leave. As amazing as the fall is, being where you have a good view is so noisy it can give you a headache after only a few minutes—at least, it does for me.”

  When they arrived at the camp, several men stopped working long enough to stare momentarily before returning to work. The exception was a man about forty years old, Anyar years. He strode forward when the carriage stopped and the occupants exited.

  “Greetings, Deetlyn,” said Zalzar. “How are you? I see you have the camp set up.”

  “Almost, Urk. I just got here myself about an hour ago. Me and Hislan.”

  Zalzar gave the man a quick embrace, then hugged a teenage boy who had trotted over from the workers. Zalzar turned to Yozef and Maera.

  “Paramount, this is my cousin Deetlyn Feldman and his son Hislan. Deetlyn is the Nollagen village chief. We see each other maybe once a year.”

  “Greetings, Paramount and Sen Kolsko-Keelan. We’ll welcome you formally when you arrive in Nollagen tomorrow. I came here to be sure everything was prepared.”

  “He means he couldn’t resist pestering the men he’d sent here,” said Hislan, grinning.

  Zalzar slapped the boy’s back, and all three laughed. Their easy familiarity in the presence of the Paramount was refreshing to Yozef. Reezo and Thala took that moment to ride up and exchange greetings. After perhaps ten minutes of talk, Chief Feldman bade them farewell to return to Nollagen, leaving his son to escort the Paramount’s caravan to the village the next day.

  CHAPTER 35

  WHAT’S HAPPENING?!

  Brintyn Cove, South Island

  Orno Kistek had quit screaming at his men an hour past the time when he’d realized it was futile. After they’d unloaded six ships the previous day, a weather front moved through, and the ships couldn’t approach the shore again until the next morning. The men were working as fast as they could. He belatedly realized the conditions had been too favorable when they’d practiced unloading back in Kolinka. Here, the seas inside the cove were not as placid, and an unexpected current complicated leading unsteady horses from the bottom of the ramp to the sandy beach. Under other circumstances, he would have wondered why a current this strong was this close to shore and inside a cove. However, the only important thing now was that too many of the hors
es would have had no time to recover before the crew pressed them into service. Whatever horses were judged usable had finally been off-loaded and were being walked to get their legs working again.

  Kistek inwardly groaned when he saw who was approaching. A profusely sweating Frenko Holuska wiped his forehead with a sleeve. “How much longer, Commander? I thought you would already have been moving. I sent your men back almost an hour ago with news the target had broken camp and was on the road.”

  Kistek suppressed snapping at their guide and took a deep breath. “It will take as long as it takes. And yes, I’m worried some local citizen will raise an alarm in Nollagen when they see our men east of Nollagen. But we’re committed. The rest of the ships should be finished at the other landing. I sent them ahead when I realized the problems we’re having here. The horses aren’t as crucial there. All they have to do is block the road and then move toward Nollagen.” He looked sharply at Holuska. “That’s assuming your description is accurate that the road runs right along the coast between the shore and the slopes that horses can’t manage.”

  “No, no. That’s the way it is. Two months ago, I took that road all the way from Nollagen around the southwest tip of South Island to Grastor. The land that a horse can manage is only about fifty yards wide.”