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

by Olan Thorensen

  Maera had sat listening as Anarynd unburdened herself, her eyes vacillating between fury at what had been done to her friend, more than a sister, and pain at hearing what Anarynd had endured. Though her eyes burned, she determined not to shed tears and to give Anarynd the time and space to be supported.

  Anarynd stopped talking and stared out the window—one of the “thousand-yard stares” Yozef had described to her, of men too long in battle.

  “When I accepted I wouldn’t kill myself, I thought hard about what I would do,” Anarynd continued softly. “I knew I couldn’t simply accept being a slave to the Narthani. Erdelin would either keep me or eventually pass me on to another Narthani or even to the brothels, if I displeased him. But while I was alive, there were always options. I might have a chance to escape. If I failed and was killed, it wouldn’t be suicide. Also, I could one day kill Erdelin while he slept. Again, if they killed me for it, God would surely not see it as taking my own life.”

  Anarynd stopped talking and for the first time had a warm look in her eyes.

  “The thing that helped the most was you, Maera. I told myself, ‘What would Maera do? She would be brave.’ Therefore, I had to be brave, no matter what happened. Brave like Maera. Many days . . . ” Anarynd swallowed hard, “ . . . and nights, I had to be brave, as I knew you would be.”

  Maera wanted nothing more than to tilt her head to the sky and scream. Brave! Me! Oh Merciful God, Ana. I don’t know how I could have been as brave as you!

  She didn’t say those words. Now was not the time, if ever. For now, the only thing that mattered was Ana being alive and safe, and Maera would do whatever she could to help her.

  CHAPTER 22: HAIL TO THE HEIR

  Move Completed

  The complete relocation of projects and shops from Abersford to Caernford took time, during which Yozef made the round trip twice more, to his frustration. He used it as an opportunity to improve his horsemanship. In Abersford, he walked the routes to and from their home, the town, his industrial park, and the abbey. In Caernford, that routine became impractical, due to the longer distances, and he rode one of the horses from his expanding personal stable. He rode Mr. Ed for the round trips to Abersford, particularly after the ride north to fetch Anarynd, and Seabiscuit more often for short, local trips.

  On the last trip to Abersford, he found himself reminiscing. With the final details of the move settled, he took an extra day to see the beach where they’d found him, his retreat cottage, Birdshit Bay, and the small valley with the jacaranda trees where he’d first kissed Maera. He also visited the abbey, where’d he lived those first months and made his first real connection with someone, Carnigan. He mentally replayed the courtyard scene of the desperate fight against the Buldorian raiders. He had no logical need to see these spots, but they were so much a part of who he had been and who he now was that he felt drawn to experience them one more time before he and his life moved on.

  When it came time to leave, there was no ceremony. He spent only a few minutes with Abbot Sistian Beynom, because Diera Beynom had gone to Caernford to help organize medical planning for future contingencies.

  As Yozef rode away, he stopped at the final hill to look back at the buildings of Abersford and the abbey.

  I wonder when I’ll see this again, he thought. So much happened here, where I was so desolate, then so happy.

  He sat for several minutes reviewing the previous years, then urged Mr. Ed on, and closed that door.

  Almost a hundred other Abersford citizens preceded or followed him and Maera to Caernford: Carnigan, Cadwulf, Filtin, Kales, Denes, Balwis, workers, and families. Cadwulf initially said no to moving, then agreed, on the condition he would stay only until the Narthani threat ended. Then he would return to Abersford to head the Applied Mathematics Department for the University of Caedellium at the Abersford campus. The reality of the Narthani threat, the Kolskos’ move to Caernford, and the unrelenting arguments that the main university needed to be in a more central location than a relatively remote town forced all parties to accept that the planned university would have to be a lower priority than anyone involved desired, especially Yozef. Not that they shelved the idea, only delayed it.

  Until then, Cadwulf agreed to relocate to Caernford and continue oversight of Yozef’s ever-expanding commercial enterprises and the Bank of Abersford, which had evolved into a major financial institution. Yozef had stubbornly refused to change its name to the Bank of either Keelan or Caedellium. No one understood his argument that “B of K” or “B of C” didn’t sound as good as “B of A,” and his decision brought forth the usual shrugs and “Well, you know, it’s Yozef.”

  Filtin spoke of returning to Abersford one day to take over his father’s work, but Yozef didn’t reveal his conviction that his chief technical troubleshooter would find endless reasons and fascinations to delay the return for the rest of his life. Yozef intended to introduce as much new information as he could, as fast as the culture here could absorb it, and he would need as many Filtin Fullers as he could find to make it happen.

  In Yozef’s mind, the Kolsko household relocation officially ended when they moved from Keelan Manor into their new home a half-mile away. In contrast to Maera’s last time leaving home, this one was a celebration, with relatives coming from Caernsford and as far away as Clengoth to help move possessions and take part in a family housewarming that lasted well into the night.

  Yozef felt amazed and gratified that the builders had constructed the new home so quickly. They still had details to finish, and the smell of wood and paint would persist for months, but the house was now ready to be lived in.

  Anarynd and Maera

  Anarynd recovered quickly, in a physical sense. Within two sixdays, she had once again become the striking young blonde woman who turned men’s heads, until they looked into a face with lines too prominent for someone her age, a closed expression, and sad eyes. Maera attempted to act as if nothing had happened during the previous months and they were the same two young women, best friends who told each other things they could tell no one else. It was only a pretense. After Anarynd’s experience with the raid on Landwin, her months of captivity and enslavement to a Narthani commander, the escape where she helped kill a guard, her return home and rejection by her family, she would never be the same.

  Though neither was Maera the same. Her feelings of being “out of place” had receded, as her life filled with multiple roles. Wife and mother-to-be were roles she had always expected, although with some trepidation. Yet she found it unexpected and exciting that her role of advisor to both the hetman and Yozef Kolsko became more formal. Yozef had been the first to tell people how he depended on Maera’s advice and help, and her father, after some hesitation and prodding by her mother, had followed suit. No matter their personal opinions, no Keelander wanted to argue with Hetman Keelan and Yozef Kolsko.

  Yes, Maera had changed, but not how she felt about Ana. Maera made efforts to keep Anarynd active, so she wouldn’t withdraw. As her first effort, she assigned some of the household “chores” to Anarynd. Maera could, with some rationale, claim she found these more difficult now that she was less mobile.

  Anarynd acquiesced without comment. Her evolution to being more animated began when Maera volunteered her to keep tabs on the other escaped women, who were only slowly finding places in Keelan society. Twelve of the women were employed by Maera, by Breda Keelan, or within Yozef’s enterprises. The rest stayed temporarily at St. Tomo’s abbey or were taken in by kindly families. Maera also asked Anarynd to maintain a written record of the progress of the other escaped women and keep up a regular written correspondence with those not in the immediate neighborhood. This gave Anarynd a reason to practice and improve her reading and writing.

  Gwyned Walstyn, Anarynd’s friend and co-escapee from Hanslow, and her daughter, Morwena, joined the Kolsko household when Maera initially thought to keep Gwyned nearby to help Anarynd adjust. Maera quickly found she liked the gruff, practical-minded w
oman and added her to the Kolsko staff with general duties, including secondary cook. While the Kolskos’ new house was being built, Gwyned lived in one of the visitor cottages on the Keelan Manor grounds, then moved to a cottage on the Kolsko estate. Maera sensed that Gwyned would find her own role in Keelan society, but keeping her close for the moment worked well for all parties. However, after everyone moved into the new house, Gwyned’s hybrid roles as worker and friend created awkwardness, and Maera soon decreed that evening meals would include Gwyned. Yozef took it in stride, eating with three women, but remained firm that morning meal was reserved for him and Maera, along with an occasional evening meal.

  Although Anarynd had acted withdrawn in Yozef’s presence at the beginning, Gwyned added a dynamic at evening meals that prevented Anarynd from staying silent. Anarynd gradually became more animated, and within three sixdays Yozef saw the Anarynd of Maera’s stories.

  Arrival of the Heir

  One month after Anarynd’s arrival, on the evening of fifthday, the third sixday of the month of Brunelon, Yozef, Maera, Anarynd, and Gwyned sat for evening meal, as two-year-old Morwena slept on a cushion in the adjoining great room. Maera had grown so large, she found it difficult to safely go from standing to sitting, so Anarynd helped her sit down. The meal started with a vegetable soup that Yozef insisted on calling minestrone. As usual, Yozef and Maera talked about their day. Anarynd still seldom said anything in Yozef’s presence, until prompted by Maera or Gwyned. He had tried to engage her, to no avail, and finally gave up. Maera told Yozef they had to be patient with Anarynd and that she would eventually open up to him and others.

  Maera lifted a spoonful of soup toward to her mouth, then jerked, spilling the spoon contents back into the bowl, onto the table, and on herself.

  “Urgh!” she grunted. The other three people stopped and looked her. “Ahh!”

  “Maera?” said a concerned Yozef.

  She looked at her husband. “Just a sudden . . . urg! Pain.” She leaned back, one hand on her bulging belly, the other on one side. “I had a cramp or something.”

  Anarynd looked at Yozef. His first thought was that Anarynd had never before looked directly at him, during the entire time since he’d brought her and the other women to Caernford. The anticipatory look in Anarynd’s face triggered his second thought. The baby!

  Maera began to breathe deeper and faster, her face in a slight grimace.

  “It keeps coming and going.” Light dawned in Maera’s face. “I . . . I think it might be that time.”

  Suddenly, Maera jerked and looked down. “Ahrg . . . what . . . oh. I think my water broke.”

  That time it was. While Anarynd and Gwyned helped Maera to the bedroom, Yozef ran the half mile to the Keelan Manor. Running was faster than saddling a horse, not that Yozef was in a frame of mind to make that deduction.

  Once he’d alerted Breda Keelan, she took charge, sent for medicants, and had a carriage brought to the Kolsko house. Yozef had already run back home. They took Maera to Keelan Manor, where the first grandchild of the hetman would be born. Although this would be the second child he’d fathered on Anyar, this time Yozef was on site and knew it would really be his, one he would help raise.

  Within two hours, a crowd had gathered at Keelan Manor, including hetman advisors, boyermen who happened to be in Caernford, Abbot Walkot, and scores of others. Yozef wouldn’t have recognized most of them, even if he’d been aware of anything except worry about Maera, as he wandered around, thinking he should be doing something. The father being present at a birth was not a Caedellium custom, so Yozef paced outside the house, waiting with the other men. Several medicants attended Maera, and Anarynd stayed with her the entire time.

  When the medicants first arrived, they reported that Maera was definitely in labor, everything was progressing normally, and people should relax, because it would be many hours before the baby arrived. That advice proved faulty when, only four hours later, a squalling eight-pound boy made his appearance. When Yozef was allowed in to see the mother and child, several people commented that Maera looked better than he did. She sat up in bed, in one arm holding a small bundle of reddish flesh with squeezed-shut eyes. With the other arm, she tried to eat a bowl of beef stew. Yozef relieved her of the bowl and spoon-fed her until she fell asleep.

  Two Godsdays later, Yozef and Maera formally presented their newborn in St. Tomo’s cathedral. Attendance overflowed. Culich formally acknowledged the boy as his grandson, and when the time came for Yozef to declare the boy’s name, he had prepared this time and gotten Maera’s approval for the name: Aeneas.

  When Maera had asked him about the origin of the name, Yozef told her Aeneas was a legendary warrior who wandered, then founded a mighty empire called Rome, and whose descendants included famous rulers named Julius Caesar, Augustus, and King Arthur. Maera merely nodded with satisfaction at the appropriateness. Yozef left out certain details, such as Aeneas fleeing the fall of Troy and that the Roman Empire was not all that different than the Narthani.

  He figured that although no one on Anyar or Earth knew of his fate, if in some distant future contact occurred between the planets, he would have left clues that this future contact was not the first. He also wondered how many more clues he would eventually leave.

  Home Life with Aeneas

  Aeneas Kolsko was a sleeping, eating, squalling, shitting lump, and in the coming sixdays Maera expressed bewilderment at how eagerly Yozef held the little bundle—at least, until he needed changing. The Caedelli considered tending infants solely a woman’s task, and Maera could remember that many months had passed before her father first held each of her two youngest sisters, and then only briefly. But this was Yozef—so different in so many ways. Why not this one, too?

  Although Yozef wondered how he would balance helping care for a baby with all of his other obligations, he hadn’t factored in his and Maera’s status, Caedellium customs, or the available assistance. The expected midnight feedings and changings never materialized. Gwyned amicably shared her cottage with Mirramel Killin, a young widow and wet nurse with a baby daughter, Dwyna. With Anarynd, Gwyned, and Mirramel on hand, Yozef had no required time with Aeneas, only time he made for regular holding. Even Maera spent less time with Aeneas than she’d expected. She nursed the baby several times a day, but Mirramel was on hand for other feedings, and Maera only partly supplied the constant attention a new infant needed. Within two sixdays, she found herself once more immersed in her activities, albeit not full time.

  The newborn’s parents talked about their perceived lack of attention to Aeneas, but both settled on spending time each day with the baby, more Maera than Yozef. They told themselves and each other that the baby wouldn’t know the difference at this age. Yozef believed it, and Maera told herself she did.

  Thus did life at the Kolsko household settle into a routine, modified from the past only in that the baby and the attendants added to the general bustle.

  CHAPTER 23: DISRUPTION

  Narthani Headquarters, Preddi City

  Brigadier Aivacs Zulfa, commander of their ground forces, and Nizam Tuzere, civil administrator, had just finished reporting on the status of defenses. Admiral Kalcan, commander of all Narthani naval units in the area, had reported no change in the Narthani’s total control of the waters around Caedellium.

  “All right,” said Akuyun, “I think we can agree the defense preparations are far enough along to consider what we might do outside of Preddi Province.”

  Akuyun felt satisfied. Now it was time to decide whether defense required offensive actions. He looked over his three direct subordinates: Zulfa, Tuzere, and Kalcan. Assessor Hizer, the fourth man at the table, did not formally function as Akuyun’s subordinate. Akuyun already knew their individual views, each having given opinions privately.

  “My inclination is to stay with a defensive posture,” said Akuyun, “except for Assessor Hizer’s agent’s reports you’ve all seen. Although we don’t have updated reports from all the clans, it�
��s evident many of them are preparing for war. Weapons production is way up, they’re producing cannon, although we don’t have clear picture of what calibers, and training has intensified. Some clans are more involved than others, but it’s clear the southern clans and Stent are leading this effort, especially the Keelan Clan in south Caedellium.

  “We can’t rule out them preparing to start offensive actions against us. With what they must think after Moreland City, along with their weapons making and training, they might decide to attack us here. I don’t believe there’s a real danger of them winning, but it would be bloody if they chose to push it, and there’d be no way to prevent damage to our fighting ability, in addition to suffering major civilian disruption and casualties. We need to decide whether we stay hunkered down in our positions here, or do we take actions to prevent or slow them from attacking us in force?”

  “Aivacs, you go first,” said Akuyun, addressing his ground force commander.

  Zulfa had never been demonstrative. His serious manner and handsome face hid whatever emotions might churn beneath the surface. However, since Moreland City, more lines had been carved into his face. Despite Akuyun’s private assurances and public comments that he had faith in Zulfa, he took the results as a personal failure. He recognized that although Akuyun had approved the campaign plan, and Assessor Hizer had avowed he had no reason to object, he, Zulfa, had still been the leader on the plain in front of Moreland City. He had been the commander of the thousand men left dead on the battlefield.

  Whatever his feelings, he didn’t hesitate to give his assessment. Akuyun expected it, and Zulfa knew that anything less would put him in more danger of falling out of the general’s favor than the Moreland results had.