Brak looked dubious. “I guess I cun see it, but I never heard of it here on Caedellium. Sum of the shopkeepers in Abersford could use doin’ the same.”
“The weights will help, but, of course, I won’t sweat as much as if I was working in a field or a smithy. So, to let myself sweat more and to help strengthen my heart, I’ll also run occasionally.”
“Run? Run where?”
“Oh, just around here. Maybe to the village or the abbey and back. Maybe out to the beach.”
“Everyone gonna think you’ve gon’ mad. That or there’s somethin’ wrong. Like another raid.”
“They’ll get used to it. If anyone asks you about me, you can explain why I’m doing it.”
The cannon foundry made the weights, to the similar confusion of the workers there and with the same explanations as he gave Brak. However, because it was “Yozef acting strange,” to which they had all become accustomed, the rationale passed with a shrug.
By necessity, the running placed Yozef in full view of any citizen along his route of the day. The initial stares and the guarded behavior soon devolved into cheerful acceptance of one more of his eccentricities.
Using Weapons
Arranging for weapons training took less explanation, the ability to defend oneself and others being taken for granted. Never having touched a firearm before—and hundreds of hours at Call of Duty and other video games didn’t qualify—made familiarity a priority. Instruction from Filtin Fuller, his worker and friend, provided enough basics to continue practicing with flintlock muskets and pistols on his own, and Yozef soon decided it was fun.
Not so with blade weapons. Merely looking at the edges of swords, axes, spears, and everything else that could be put to such use made him queasy. But needs ruled. He needed to have a remote chance of survival should occasion arise where familiarity was critical.
Again, he required an instructor. Cadwulf was out, because he was too young, and Yozef couldn’t imagine him being experienced at dicing someone. Carnigan was out as an instructor, since his fighting ability was tied to his prodigious strength. However, Denes provided a lead when Yozef explained what he wanted and pointed him to Wyfor Kales, a scrawny, fiftyish man of Yozef’s height, missing a few teeth, bearing several prominent scars, and with a mean look to his eyes. Kales was one of the few islanders to have spent time off the island, including nearly twenty years of employment, the details of which no one knew.
“Trust me, Yozef. If you want to learn about blades, Kales is your man.”
Denes was right.
Carnigan directed Yozef to Kales one evening in the Snarling Graeko.
“Hello, Ser Kales. We’ve never met before. I’m Yozef Kolsko.”
“As if anyone ’round here doesn’t know who you are,” deadpanned Kales.
“Yes, well, Denes Vegga recommended you.”
“Vegga, huh. He’s not bad,” Kales said grudgingly. “And why would he point you to me?”
“I’m not from Caedellium, and in my homeland I never learned to use weapons, particularly blades. You know . . . swords, spears, whatever. The recent raid showed me I need to learn enough to have a chance to defend myself and others. When I asked Denes who he would recommend instructing me, he suggested you.”
Kales stared at Yozef with a blank face. A minute passed. Yozef could feel a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.
Had he insulted this Kales or something? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“I can pay you quite well for any instruction,” Yozef blurted.
Kales’s mouth pinched at the corners, Yozef couldn’t tell whether from anger or humor.
“Vegga. He’s all right. On the other hand, they say you’re very odd, but it’s been a more interesting place to live since you arrived. As for the raid, too bad I wasn’t here, instead of in Clengoth. I coulda taken care of myself, but I have family here, brothers and their kids. People say you helped beat off those Buldorian shitheads, plus my brother Elrin tells me your medicines saved his wife. So I’ll teach you the fundamentals, enough to keep you alive for a few seconds, if you find yourself facing an average man.”
Yozef exhaled.
I guess that means he’s not going kill me outright for some insult or intrusion. And a few seconds? Well, that’s something. Sometimes you only need a few seconds to find a place to run to.
“You won’t need to pay me. I got plenty a coin. An hour a day, three days a sixday. Just before midday meal. I’ll set the days. You either come those days, or we forget it. We start tomorrow.”
With those words, Kales picked up his stein of beer and walked to a table with several men playing an Anyar card game. Yozef stood and watched him walk away.
Okay, so social graces aren’t his strong point, but I hope his fighting instruction is.
It was.
Thus began instruction on the mayhem that could be done with anything sharp. Kales seldom had a friendly word, being matter-of-fact in the means and consequences of the violent application of sharp instruments to a human body. During the raid, Yozef had clumsily stuck a Buldorian with his spear, but in the turmoil and his fear, he didn’t recollect details. Kales corrected this oversight. At the third session, Kales had several burlap bags of wet sand and had Yozef practice stabbing with knives of various designs and size.
“It gives a good first impression of what it feels like to run a blade into someone. The wet sand has about the same resistance to a blade as a man’s body,” Kales explained in a tone Yozef might have used to clarify a law of chemistry—cool, objective, and authoritative.
Yozef didn’t have the nerve to ask how Kales knew the feeling of sticking a knife into a human body.
A month later, when Yozef arrived for his session, Kales had a live yearling calf. At first, Yozef was afraid Kales expected him to kill it, but Kales cut its throat and hung it in a tree to let Yozef get the look and feel for driving a knife and a sword into a flesh-and-blood body.
The training was intense, and Kales had no compunction against inflicting pain when they sparred with wooden copies, each hour leaving Yozef with a collection of bruises from stabs and slashes. He was surprised at the complexity of using a spear, as Kales disillusioned Yozef’s preconceptions in the first session. Swords were even more difficult. It took only seconds for Kales to either disarm Yozef or make a touch that would have been fatal with real weapons.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Kales said, after noting Yozef’s frustration. “You’re not likely to get in a sword fight with anyone as good as me. If you can get so you can survive ten seconds of my attacking, you’ll be good enough to defeat almost anyone.”
Yozef didn’t know whether Wyfor was bragging but applied himself diligently, accepting the bruises. Then one day Kales broke off his attack, stepped back, and smiled—a rarity.
“Nicely done, Yozef. You’ve done better than I expected. I told you the goal was to last ten seconds, and you just doubled that.”
It was with knives where Yozef exceeded both of their expectations. To Kales, “knives” meant two men with knives using those plus every part of their bodies. Yozef’s familiarity with the concepts of martial arts from movies and TV, even if with no direct personal experience, meant Kales didn’t have to explain why fists, elbows, foreheads, knees, and feet were important in a knife fight. In the sparring, Yozef’s bigger size and increasing strength helped compensate for Kales’s speed and experience. That Yozef still lost every mock knife fight was balanced by Kales needing more than a minute to win and coming away with bruises of his own.
Finally, one day Yozef arrived for his lesson, wondering what Kales had planned that day.
“I think I’ve taught you enough to satisfy your goal: being able to minimally defend yourself and others. You’re actually much better than that. You’re strong for your size and unusually quick. Your biggest weakness is lack of experience in actual fighting, something I can’t give you. We could spar, and you would continue improving, but considering who you ar
e and the unlikelihood you would need to improve to that degree, I doubt it’s called for.”
“You say I’m good, but then why do I get killed so many times every session?”
Kales looked genuinely amused.
“That’s because you’re facing me. Nothing personal, but you stand no chance against me, nor would most anyone else here on Caedellium. Maybe Carnigan, because he’s so huge and strong, but for him I’d just stay out of his reach, and he couldn’t catch me.”
“In that case, I’ll be sure to always try to stay on your good side,” quipped Yozef.
Kales’s smile broadened. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. I’ve grown a little fond of you, in a way. Goodbye.”
With that surprising statement and terse dismissal, Kales walked away, and Yozef’s lessons in blade fighting were over.
Chapter 5: Narthani
What Happened at St. Sidryn’s?
Two months had passed since the failed Buldorian raid on Keelan. General Akuyun walked along the harbor piers with Assessor Hizer, as they stretched their legs and took in sea air. Each man thought himself too tied to his office.
“Still no solid information on what happened on the Keelan raid?” Akuyun asked.
Hizer shook his head. “Only what our agents in place transmit and our own suppositions, since the Buldorians vanished back home, I assume, after the raid. All we can say is that the main action was an assault on the local abbey of . . . what was it? Yes, St. Sidryn’s. Of no particular military significance, but one of the most respected of their abbey complexes, particularly for their medicant training and the reputation of the abbey’s abbot . . .” He thumbed through his memory. “Sistian Beynom. Also a known lifelong friend of the Keelan hetman and one of his main advisors, although unofficial.
“Fragmented reports indicate a high number of Buldorian casualties and relatively few islanders. Whatever happened, it was a rout, and the Buldorians withdrew and headed for home.”
“Do you see any relation to our conclusion that the Keelanders and their allies are the most organized and potentially troublesome for our overall mission?”
“Nothing we can definitively determine,” replied Hizer. “It may just be bad intelligence on their defenses, mistakes on the part of the Buldorians, or who knows what else?”
“What about trying to put more agents in place in Keelan?” asked Akuyun.
“Worth considering, but there’s the danger of alerting them to those already in place. We’d need to balance the potential gain of more information versus the losses if they realize our agents are among them, and they root them out.”
“For more information alone I’d be hesitant, but I’m inclined to be in favor of more Keelan agents in place, if we decide to eliminate their hetman.”
“That’s my own thinking,” said Hizer. “Once we move on Moreland, everything will change, anyway.”
“All right. See if you can insert a couple more agents into the Keelan capital. Obviously, these will have to be capable of more direct action than the others, in case we move against their hetman.”
Sowing Confusion
The two men stopped when a work crew of twenty men rounded a corner. The brown tunics and the leather collars identified them as slaves, either Preddi or imported from other conquered peoples. They weren’t shackled, and a single guard led them, signaling they were docile enough not to require more security or supervision.
“Sir!” exclaimed the infantry non-com soldier with cavus rank markings. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t see you coming.”
“No problem, Cavus . . . Keznak, isn’t it?” said Akuyun.
“Yes, sir!” said the non-com, thrusting out his chest farther at the mission commander who knew his name, though they’d never spoken.
“Carry on. I’m sure you have important work for these men. I’m always glad that experienced soldiers like you are with me on missions.”
Hizer smiled, as the non-com hustled the slaves off. “Of course, Okan, if he was that valuable, his unit would have him leading twenty men typical of the cavus rank, not slaves.”
“Yes, but he’s still valuable, no matter what his assignments, and there’s no reason for him not to think the officers don’t appreciate his efforts, no matter high how their positions.”
They walked out to the end of a pier and watched a recently arrived cargo ship being unloaded of general supplies, mail and dispatches from Narthon—and a new shipment of gunpowder, if Akuyun remembered the manifest summary he’d seen first thing that morning.
“Well, I think we’ve put off enough sitting on our butts at our desks for today. I have some paperwork to do, before riding with Zulfa this afternoon to witness a field exercise, so we’d better head back,” said Akuyun. “While we do, anything new from your agents?”
Hizer was an assessor, tasked by the Narthani High Command to give independent evaluations on mission progress and commanders’ performances. While not in the formal chain of command, Akuyun had asked him to serve as the intelligence coordinator for the mission, a somewhat unusual arrangement, but within the scope of Akuyun’s and Hizer’s assignments, as least as they both agreed to define those scopes. Akuyun’s query involved efforts to suborn Caedellium clans through deception of true intentions by means of disinformation, false rumors, decoy military movements, bribes, facilitation of conflicts between clans, promises of substantial long-term rewards for cooperation, and implied threats for non-cooperation following the inevitable Narthani victory.
“Nothing new,” said Hizer. “We’ve both seen Admiral Kalcan’s reports of the ongoing raids and patrols along the entire Caedellium coast. According to my agents within several of the coastal provinces, we’re having varying levels of success in tying down available clan fighting capabilities. I’m reasonably confident that the Pewitt and Swavebroke clans have put too many of their fighting men at coastal posts to contribute to a coalition against us.
“I also believe we’ve been successful in neutralizing the Nyvaks and Pawell clans. Nyvaks is geographically connected to the island only by a narrow isthmus, which probably contributed to their feeling less cultural connection to the other clans. They’ve historically chaffed at their territory. Their histories and legends say the clan was chased there by stronger clans in the early century of settling the island. Concurrently, the Pawell Clan, which sits on the other end of that isthmus, is justifiably wary of Nyvaks. We’ve given both clans bribes and promises to the Nyvaks hetman that we intend no interest in his province or the others in the northeast portion of Caedellium, and we wouldn’t object to a future where Nyvaks expands into several neighboring provinces. We also continue to trade with Nyvaks, essentially a continuing bribe—the only clan where such trading is still ongoing, I’ll add, and only possible to be kept hidden by their geographic remoteness from the other clans.
“With Pawell, we continue to spread rumors and false information about the Nyvaks planning an invasion that, when combined with the Admiral Kalcan’s operations, will freeze Pawell from any action outside their province.
“Similar fomenting of distrust between clans has been less successful elsewhere, although we’ve raised suspicions in Swavebroke about Farkesh intentions. Swavebroke is also isolationist. Their hetman is on the dull side and wouldn’t understand any strategy or tactic beyond his own borders, so Swavebroke is not expected to respond.
“We’re uncertain about the Skouks Clan on the north coast of Caedellium. The only agent we have in place there has reported strong disagreements between the hetman and a majority of the boyermen, with the hetman more inclined to oppose any move by us on other clans, while the boyermen agree only if a neighboring clan is directly threatened.
“Less encouraging are the failures with the other northern provinces—Farkesh, Vandinke, and Bultecki. These, along with Skouks and Nyvaks, are descended from a different migration to the island than the other clans, and there remains friction between the descendants of these two migrations. These clans also have a longer hi
story of inter-clan conflicts. We expected to be more successful, but Farkesh and Vandinke may join a coalition at some point, while Bultecki has close ties to the Orosz Clan and would follow their lead. However, for the immediate future we see none of these clans as major factors.
“There’s also an irksome report out of Adris. Their hetman was an isolationist, but he died last year, and his son is different. He’s held several meetings with other hetmen, particularly Hetman Keelan. We don’t know the topics of the meetings, but I’m not ruling out Adris forming a tighter connection to the Keelan and the two clans in their Tri-Clan Alliance.”
“And you still think it unlikely that more than four or five clans will come to Moreland’s aid?”
“I now think the number could go as high as six or seven, but that should still pose no problem. I’ve estimated to Zulfa that the number of horsemen he might face is between eight and fourteen thousand. And that’s all horsemen. They still aren’t familiar with infantry tactics, plus lack any effective artillery.”
“I agree,” said Akuyun. “Eight to fourteen thousand horsemen could be handled, but we need to keep it at those numbers. Even without infantry and artillery, should all the clans commit with every available man, we’d face upward of fifty thousand light cavalry. Once we move, it needs to be quick.”
“I’ve seen no sign of a unified front against us, but you’re right, we need to be expeditious once you decide it’s time to move to the next phase.”
Aivacs Zulfa
General Okan Akuyun and Brigadier Aivacs Zulfa rode back the six miles to Preddi after spending part of the afternoon inspecting two infantry units, one unit drilling in mixed pike and musket defense and assaults and the other unit building a bridge to a newly opened copper mine. Akuyun could have listened to or read reports of both units’ activities, but he got out of his office whenever possible. He also wanted to hear Zulfa’s thinking directly about their coming move against the other clans. As troop commander, Zulfa would plan campaign details. Akuyun would offer advice but intervene only if he foresaw major problems. He believed in carefully picking his subordinates and letting them do their jobs.
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 4