Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4)

by Olan Thorensen

  “Yes, but not all the same,” said Yozef. “Besides caring for her own daughter, Gwyned also helps with Dwyna.”

  Aeneas’s original wet nurse, Mirramel, had died in the attack, leaving her daughter, Dwyna, motherless. Either the Kolskos would find a relative of Mirramel’s to place the child with, or Dwyna would remain part of the Kolsko household. Never in question was that Dwyna would be cared for.

  Yozef walked to Maera and reached an arm around her waist. “As for Carnigan and Balwis, they’ve both left their other quarters in Caernford and live here full time now, along with the Reeses.”

  Gowlin Reese had been one of the rotating guards for Hetman Keelan. He had not been on duty the night of the attack. Later, Culich volunteered him as a natural addition to the Yozef guard detail when Gowlin’s wife, Braithe, assumed Mirramel’s vacant position as Aeneas’s wet nurse.

  “And Kales,” said Maera. “I’ve never been comfortable around him, although I like his wife, Teena. But after what happened, I’m glad he’s spending more time here.”

  “I admit Wyfor is an acquired taste, but I have absolute trust in him, the same as the other three guards,” said Yozef. “As for the Reeses, adding their daughter, Islan, to the household and caring for Dwyna now gives us four children, with Braithe expecting another in six months. The daycare is growing.”

  The three girls, Morwena, Dwyna, and Islan, sometimes with the addition of Aeneas, were mutual playmates. Whenever the children and their accompanying caregivers congregated, Yozef began calling it the Kolsko daycare, a name that others soon adopted. After all, Yozef Kolsko had proposed the name.

  Even if he could have cloned himself into three Yozef Kolskos, they wouldn’t be able to accomplish everything Yozef believed necessary. He fought himself and others to maintain enough family and personal time, so that the stress didn’t overwhelm him. Maera, with the connivance of Carnigan and Balwis, kept an eye on his condition and forced time off whenever they sensed the burdens threatened to become dangerously heavy. The demands were greater than any human, Septarsh or not, could hope to address, and they talked among themselves, along with Denes Vegga and Vortig Luwis.

  “Much as we need him doing so much,” stated Luwis, “it’s better to have a fully functioning Yozef Kolsko part time than a diminished version full time.”

  Prioritization was Yozef’s refuge and bane. He resorted to the four-quadrant prioritization square he’d disdained when his ex-girlfriend had explained it to him. He plotted a list of need-to-do items on a two-dimensional graph. He rated up and down (positive and negative) from urgent to not-urgent and left to right (negative to positive) from not-important to important. The items rated most urgent and most important got first attention. He discarded the most not-urgent and not-important, no matter who proposed them. The in-between items might or might not be eventually addressed. It was an imperfect system, and although Yozef occasionally violated the graph, it gave him a starting point to allocate his time. He also had a ready excuse for why an issue important to someone else would never get his attention. Not that everyone understood the reasoning of the graph. However, Yozef Kolsko used it, so it must be rational.

  The order of prioritization fluctuated from day to day, with a typical day’s activity suggesting the pattern: planning the invasion of Narthani-controlled territory; holding meetings to explain why something needed to be done (such as getting all military units trained to fight under the green and starred Caedellium flag and banners, instead of those from individual clans); meeting with the Military Intelligence Unit to be briefed on the latest MIU reports; meeting with the mapping project members to assess progress and direct future emphasis; and meeting with a delegation from the Skouks clan who agitated for more cannon. Not open for prioritization was Yozef’s now twice a sixday hour of physical exercise and his once a sixday sparring with Wyfor Kales. Despite his brain’s insistence that there were more important uses of his time, his heart and gut couldn’t forget the assassination attack and what the outcome might have been, if not for his own actions.

  The little time he spent with Aeneas nagged at his conscience. Maera shared his guilt. The daycare and the new wet nurse allowed Maera to return to work with a vengeance. Her shock and sorrow at Anid’s death, the serious wounds to her father and Ceinwyn, and an attacker’s near-miss at shooting Aeneas had refocused her abiding fury at the Narthani and drove her to do even more than before.

  She continued to organize Yozef’s time, but she focused mainly on the MIU that Yozef had founded. He’d left its operations in her hands and Owill Brell’s. The Adris clan member assumed the role of head of intelligence gathering, while Maera concentrated on analysis and background intelligence. Her current chief project was a profile of Narthani culture and history, culled from available writings and from interviews with people who had personal experience with the invaders. They included the few Narthani prisoners from the Battle of Moreland City and escapees. The prisoners provided a view from lower levels of Narthani society but few details about history and higher levels of Narthani social strata. The escapees proved more informative, because so many of them came from different backgrounds. Savronel Storlini, a Narthani citizen with no loyalty to Narthon, became especially useful. Descended from a people conquered only a few generations previously, he hoped for a better life and had taken a leap of faith to defect to the clans. As a youth, he’d studied Narthani history with the naïve desire to find a way to free his people. He’d given up the fantasy years ago and now became Maera’s go-to source for Narthani background.

  Her work in organizing the planned University of Caedellium, where she would be the first chancellor, had faded into the background. She simply had too much else to do.

  Maera’s need to care for Aeneas and provide feedings (supplemented by Braithe) limited her time either at the MIU headquarters in Caernford or working at home. Despite her anxiety about failing at her maternal duties, she came to a decision while helping her mother clear Anid’s rooms in Keelan Manor.

  It had been an agonizing morning. As Maera and Breda Keelan sorted through Anid’s possessions, they found it difficult to progress beyond bouts of weeping, especially when holding an object the third Keelan daughter loved.

  “This was always her favorite,” said Breda, clutching a ragged stuffed dog. The brown cloth had been patched so many times, little remained of the original coat. One green eye waited to be replaced, and the stub of a tail testified to Anid’s habit of chewing on it, even when she got older.

  Mother and daughter only hugged, having shed enough tears in the previous three hours. A sense of acceptance had seeped in, and neither cried as they beheld the pitiful object.

  “Mother,” said Maera, “can I keep this and a few of Anid’s other things? Yozef and I have agreed to name our first daughter after Anid. I’d like to give her Anid’s things when she’s old enough.”

  “Oh, Maera,” said Breda, her voice catching, “what a wonderful idea. I’m sure Anid would love that. You can keep anything you pick out, or I can keep all of it in storage until you’re ready for them.”

  “Maybe you should keep them for now. We don’t have a house now, and it wouldn’t surprise me if we move again before the Narthani threat is over.”

  Neither questioned the assumption that they would share a future without the Narthani.

  Maera looked around the room, and her mood shifted to cold fury. She tried to tamp it down. “There’s something else I wanted to talk with you about.”

  “Are you sure, Maera?” Yozef asked when she broached the idea with her husband. “We could use more of your time, but you already feel guilty for not spending as much time with Aeneas as your mother spent with your sisters.”

  Maera set her mouth firmly and shook her brown hair, her green eyes staring straight at Yozef. “Yes, I do feel bad and pray I’m not harming Aeneas by not being the mother I should, but there are greater issues. If we don’t prevail against the Narthani, nothing I do or don’t do with our chi
ld will compare to his future under the Narthani, if he even has a future. He’s a member of the family of a prominent hetman and the son of Yozef Kolsko. If he survived, it would likely be as a slave. What I’m doing to help you and work with the MIU is critical. It’s where I have to spend as much time as possible. And let’s be honest. We have more than enough help as long as Ana, Gwyned, and Braithe are around. Then there’s Mother and my sisters.”

  The last reference came out with a catch in Maera’s voice. Sisters. Only two, now that Anid was gone.

  “What about Braithe?” Yozef asked. “That would leave her breastfeeding two babies full time. Is that even possible? Would she have enough milk?”

  Maera shook her head. “It’s not a problem. The more feeding is done, the more milk is produced—at least, for most women. I’ve already spoken with Braithe, and she’s willing. If it doesn’t work out, we can always find another wet nurse.”

  Yozef put both arms around his wife, holding her close. He tilted his head back to look her in the eye. “I agree. Reluctantly. I want to be sure you don’t flail yourself unnecessarily. I do need your help, and the Military Intelligence Unit will expand greatly in size and importance. We must rely on others with Aeneas, and in return, they’ll rely on us to do whatever is necessary for everyone. When will you stop breastfeeding him?”

  “There’s no reason to wait. I’ll start reducing the number of feedings per day and let Braithe take over more and more. In three or four days, I’ll stop entirely. From what Mother and others tell me, my breasts might ache at first, but by gradually slacking off, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Maera hesitated, then continued. “There’s something else. Although I want more children, this isn’t the time. We already brought one into this world, and I’d rather not bring more until the future is settled. If I stop breastfeeding Aeneas so I can work more, getting pregnant and giving birth again is counterproductive.”

  Yozef didn’t disagree but felt a twinge of guilt when his next thought was the effect on their bedding. A flash-forward to months or years without sex wasn’t appealing.

  Maera read his thoughts and took them in stride as a normal concern. “It means we’ll be careful with our coupling. I know when my monthly time is due. We’ll avoid it during the two sixdays when I might become pregnant.”

  Yozef relaxed. You might know Maera would have thought this out, he mused.

  “I’ve talked to my cousin Ioneid,” said Maera. “She’s given me advice on how to substitute for coupling, so don’t worry, Yozef.” She patted his hand.

  Christ, he thought. Like she’s reassuring a four year old. However, he couldn’t help but wonder about Ioneid’s advice. Maera’s cousin was notorious for an active libido, though supposedly she’d exercised more restraint since she’d married.

  Maera linked an arm in Yozef’s. “I swear to all I know and to God, may he forgive me, but our next child I’ll care for like I haven’t with Aeneas. That includes every night, all night, and all feeding for its first year, as much as I possibly can.”

  Once each sixday, Aeneas’s parents strove to retain a semblance of normality. Four days after Maera breast-fed Aeneas for the last time, the Kolsko family attended an ad-hoc potluck after Godsday service. Yozef held a sleeping Aeneas during Abbot Walkout’s sermon at St. Tomo’s Cathedral in Caernford and slowly rocked him back and forth to keep him asleep. Maera had worried that if she held him and the baby woke and tried to nurse, he would nuzzle at her still-tender breasts and become frustrated when his mother didn’t present him with a nipple and a flow of milk.

  When they exited the cathedral, they walked the two hundred yards behind the edifice to where carriages, wagons, and horses were left tied. There, they reclaimed their carriage and drove a half mile to an open, grassy field with scattered majestic trees—the area set aside for activities like festivals and other gatherings. Already setting out blankets and baskets of food were Filtin and Nerlin Fuller, Teena and Wyfor Kales, and Gowlin and Braithe Reese. Yozef felt thankful to see the latter, because Aeneas had woken up and fussed. Yozef assumed he was either hungry or needed changing—or both. He thankfully passed the baby to Braithe to attend to both possibilities, then helped Maera spread another blanket and unpack the basket she’d brought from their carriage.

  Another carriage, driven by Carnigan, delivered Anarynd, Gwyned, Morwena, and Dwyna. Balwis Preddi escorted Ceinwyn and Mared Keelan on a walk from the cathedral. Culich and Breda Keelan had committed to eating at Breda’s sister’s house in Caernford.

  Ceinwyn still felt unsteady, with part of her face bandaged, but she’d insisted on walking in the noonday sun, to her mother’s exasperation. Ceinwyn believed herself able to make the walk, though Maera noted that Ceinwyn hung onto Balwis’s arm for support, and her face appeared drawn.

  Yozef also noticed Balwis’s assistance, especially the scarred, rough-mannered fellow’s solicitousness, as he helped Ceinwyn sit on a blanket. Yozef nodded approvingly. Nice to see Balwis help Ceinwyn. He’s mentioned he was impressed at her courage to attack the assassins coming at his blindside. I suspect he feels he owes her for saving him, especially since the same assassin turned and gave Ceinwynd her wound.

  Last to arrive were Orla Morston and her family. The eldest daughter of Abbot Culich Beynom and Abbess Diera Beynom had married a Caernford printer. At Diera’s urging, Orla had invited the Kolskos for an evening meal after they moved to Caernford, and they had continued occasional contacts. Orla was heavy with her second child, and Maera and Anarynd insisted she sit with them.

  After dismissing the lively older children to play, the adults laid out food and called the children back a few minutes later. Everyone ate and engaged in light-hearted banter, then the adults once again let the children run, while talk gradually turned more serious. Carnigan soon lost interest and, at the behest of several children, left the adults to give piggyback rides, first to Morwena and then to the other children, taking turns. Two-year-old Morwena geared up to protest having to share her playmate, until Carnigan picked her up with one hand. She sat proud and laughing in his palm, assuming that perch was hers, if she had to share Carnigan’s shoulders with the other kids.

  Maera laughed so hard at the sight of the red mountain playing with children that she failed to notice Gwyned’s soft gaze as she watched them frolic.

  Yozef noticed. Hmmm. Is Gwyned interested in Carnigan as more than Morwena’s playmate? Now that I think about it, they seem particularly polite around each other, and Carnigan obviously dotes on Morwena. I’d thought it was only his fondness for the girl, but it’s also a way to get an unmarried mother’s attention. Not that I think Carnigan would be duplicitous. It could be unconscious, if he’s reluctant to approach Gwyned directly. I’ll mention this later to Maera.

  Nerlin Fuller brought forth the final course before the group dispersed.

  “Muddleton berry pies, Nerlin’s specialty,” announced Filtin, holding up two dishes. “Now, everyone please pretend you like them, or my wife will sulk for the next week. Just nibble a little and don’t worry about finishing them.”

  A sharp yelp followed Filtin’s words as Nerlin snapped a cloth at her husband’s behind—to the laughter of all. Nerlin’s renowned pies won prizes at festivals.

  “The lout is just trying to save as much as possible for us to take back home, where he can eat the rest himself,” said Nerlin. “He’s already putting on weight.”

  “I am not fat,” protested Filtin.

  “Maybe not,” said Yozef, “though I notice you didn’t deny the lout description.”

  “He can hardly deny what’s evident to all,” quipped Balwis, to the surprise of everyone who knew the escaped Preddi. He had only recently relaxed enough around the Kolsko and Keelan families to participate in good-natured banter and temper his normally acerbic manner.

  The conversation continued for twenty minutes, the object of comments rotating through the gathering. Even Anarynd joined in, her reticence to assume a place
in the group continuing to fade. The warm feelings generated the group’s interaction and Anarynd’s emerging gaiety brought forth conflicting feelings within Maera. Why can’t there be more such times? she wondered. I guess I should be grateful for the few we have.

  Maera’s mood threatened to darken as she watched Braithe change Dwyna. It’s so unfair, God. Poor Dwyna—to lose a father in the Battle of Moreland City and then her mother. So much to put on an innocent babe. We’ll do the best we can for her, but God, it’s not fair!

  Her eyes dwelled on Ceinwyn’s bandage. Forgive me, God. I haven’t been much of a sister to Ceinwyn the last few years. She’s been so whiny and self-centered, I found it easier to ignore and avoid her. Maera’s attention slipped from Ceinwyn’s bandage to the rest of her face. You know, now that I think of it, Ceinwyn seems changed. I know she’s still in pain, but I expected nonstop complaints and grabs for attention. There’s been little of that. Perhaps God will forgive my previous lack of empathy, if I talk with her more to understand how she’s handling what’s happened.

  All too soon, it came time to leave. Men and women repacked the remains of food into baskets, shook out and folded blankets, shared hugs and handclasps, and voiced anticipation for future gatherings. Everyone wished for the coming sixday. The Kolsko household and the two younger Keelan daughters headed back to Keelan Manor. The morning and early afternoon had been an island of comfort in an otherwise turbulent world.

  Chapter 3: Word From Narthon

  Two men walked together down the largest pier in the Preddi City harbor. One wore the blue jacket and pants of a Narthani naval officer. Rank, braid, and medals adorned his attire. His three-cornered blue hat had gold decoration, which, with rank insignia on the jacket, identified him as a Narthani admiral. The other man wore the maroon jacket and blue pants of the Narthani army. The only markings on his uniform consisted of a general’s insignia on each epaulet. Their measured pace indicated they were in no rush to get anywhere, except out of hearing of the twenty aides and guards following behind. No one else stood on the pier at this moment; therefore, no guards preceded them. The shock of Colonel Memas Erdelin’s killing in his own villa in Hanslow, the capital of Eywell Province, still reverberated within the Narthani officer corps. Now, no senior officer traveled anywhere without a security screen, and even the lowest ranks, officer and noncommissioned, felt wary wherever they went.