General Okan Akuyun, commander of the Narthani mission to Caedellium, seldom resorted to wishful thinking. Thus it surprised him that his thoughts kept returning to a fantasy where he could read the minds of the principle planners among the clans. If not read minds, then maybe he could be an insect on the wall at their meetings. The wishful thinking didn’t last long, but the same recurring thought warned him about the level of threat he perceived facing the Narthani foothold on Caedellium.
“I know what you mean, Okan,” said Admiral Morfred Kalcan, commander of all Narthani naval forces around Caedellium and the only one of Akuyun’s subordinates he would count as a friend. “Six months ago, everything seemed to be progressing as planned. Now? I’ve wondered how you can get your head around the islanders doing the unexpected, at least from what we had envisioned we faced here. It’s easier for me. I can sit on my ships offshore much of the time. You’re here on the ground and have responsibilities for troops and civilians. I don’t envy you.”
Akuyun grunted as they stopped at the pier’s end. Waves sloshed against pilings, and the two types of avian, murvors and birds, sang to each other, or so thought Akuyun. The murvors were more common on this part of Caedellium, and the plaintive call of one prominent type of bird always drew him to the shore. Although he wasn’t a seaman, he’d miss the eerie sounds once he returned to Narthon, where he’d likely be posted far from the sea.
“I confess, Morfred, that it’s taken me longer than it should have to reorient my thinking about what the islanders might do. I, along with the rest of us, got too tied to our preconceptions. I’m hoping that’s behind me now, but who knows? I do know that we must consider all possibilities, including a need to carry out emergency evacuations of as many women and children as possible, with the men, military and civilian, holding on until they, too, can be rescued by your ships.”
Akuyun’s statement was not news to Kalcan. The two men had shared similar thoughts many times in the last month. “And how is Sadek taking all this? If it came to your worst fears, you and I would be acting against the last directive from Narthon that we hold on to our current positions. Some assessors would attempt to remove you from command.”
Sadek Hizer was an assessor, a direct representative of the Narthani High Command. Assessors held no formal position in a chain of command and reported independent evaluations of a mission’s progress and the performance of the mission’s command structure. Though seldom invoked, a mission’s assessor, in extraordinary circumstances, could remove a commander.
“So what do you think Sadek would do if you ordered an evacuation without approval from Narthon?”
“I believe he would accept my decision, even if he didn’t formally approve,” said Akuyun. “We’re fortunate to have a reasonable assessor, so I doubt there would be confusion.”
Kalcan understood the unspoken. If an assessor moved against a mission commander, and the commander refused to step down, the status of the commander among his subordinates could lead to a split in the officer ranks—those supporting the assessor and those backing the commander. In a few cases whispered about among the Narthani officer corps, though never officially acknowledged, fighting had broken out between the factions. Yet such cases happened rarely, because both the commander and the assessor had to eventually account for their actions to a higher authority. The commander needed to justify his refusal to be removed, usually because of the strategic or tactical situation or the demonstrable incompetence of the assessor; the assessor had to prove his action justified, because the commander either endangered the mission or changed mission orders without sufficient reason.
This dangerous game created a situation so precarious for all parties that such conflicts were often resolved when one of the two men suffered an unfortunate accident or fell against an enemy of the Empire. Naturally, this solution also had perilous consequences.
“Of course, there’s no way to be completely sure of what Sadek would do,” said Akuyun.
Kalcan touched Akuyun lightly on a forearm. “I’m sure you know I’ll support you any way I can.”
“Thanks, Morfred. I doubt that’ll be necessary.”
Implicit in the admiral’s words was an offer to resolve any serious command confusion, if Assessor Hizer could be enticed to undergo a sea voyage.
“How did Zulfa and the colonels take the plan to withdraw from Selfcell and Eywell, if the clans appear to launch a major thrust toward Preddi?” said Kalcan, changing the subject.
“As expected. Discouraged, grim, but they accept the necessity. There’s no way we could protect Preddi Province and have enough men in Selfcell and Eywell provinces to fend off a major islander attack. The problem is there’s no good solution. If we don’t protect the two allied provinces, we lose thousands of their fighting men. If we protect them, we endanger our garrisons from being cut off, and at the same time we open Preddi to more serious raids or attacks.”
The two men turned and started back down the pier toward the docks. The aides and the guards likewise turned and kept the same distance.
“I laid it out for them. What if ten thousand islanders threaten Hanslow? Our garrison and the bulk of the remaining Eywellese fighters would be restricted to the city and the immediate surroundings. Then another twenty thousand islanders could attack across southern Eywell and threaten to run amok within Preddi.”
“What about Selfcell?” asked Kalcan. “Couldn’t the two clans support each other?”
“On paper, yes. Unfortunately, real life isn’t paper. The two clans despise each other, and we’re the only thing that keeps them from each other’s throats. Then there’s my concern about Selfcell. Although there’s no proof, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hetman Selfcell plans to turn against us, should the right situation occur. In fact, this worry is one reason I’m still open to having both clans withdraw most, or all, of their population deeper toward, or even into, Preddi Province. The closer we keep them to us, the more we can count on their men in any fight.”
Kalcan shook his head. “Then there’s the problem of feeding and housing them.”
“Right,” agreed Akuyun. “We might have enough food to feed all our Narthani for many months, but what if we add an equal number of islanders? No, there are too many bad options and no good ones.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t have the luxury of not deciding,” said Kalcan. “So what will you do?”
“Selfcell is easiest. The capital, Sellmor, is on their southwest coast and not far from the Preddi border. The rest of their population is more concentrated in the southern half. We’ll be ‘advising’ Hetman Selfcell to move nonessential clan members south toward Sellmor, leaving only those men needed to keep farms and ranches in the north producing as long as possible. If necessary, we might be able to hold a defensive line that includes the southern quarter of Selfcell Province.
“Eywell is just the reverse. Their population is concentrated in the north and more vulnerable to being cut off. That’s why we’ve started to slowly bring down the garrison size in Hanslow without it being too noticeable. We might not be able to fool Hetman Selfcell, but the new Eywell hetman has enough problems consolidating his position and fending off clan skirmishes to notice. I haven’t decided if it’s feasible to move south enough of the Eywell population to make the effort worthwhile. The first priority has to be the security of our men stationed in Eywell.”
“Am I misreading you, Okan, or are you not all that disturbed at losing Erdelin?” said Kalcan.
“Oh, I’m definitely disturbed at Erdelin’s killing,” said Akuyun, pointing to the increased number of guards preceding them back down the pier. “Now, I dare not go anywhere with fewer than five guards, and that’s just mainly between our headquarters and my villa. And now there are five permanent guards at the villa even if I’m not there, and my wife and children can’t go anywhere without a set of guards. I’ve even thought seriously of sending my family and as many others as possible back to Narthon. I’d do it, except the s
ignal it would send to the other hundred thousand of our people on Caedellium would hardly be missed.
“As for losing Erdelin, it may turn out to have some advantages. Certainly, no officer now takes the Caedelli for granted. Erdelin’s replacement, Jomzik Jurna, is looking like an improvement over Erdelin. I just wish the change of command had been less abrupt and hadn’t exposed our vulnerability. I’d had my eye on Jurna, but, to be honest, I hadn’t paid him as much attention as I should have. As soon as Erdelin was killed, Jurna took over with minimal hesitation and kept the garrison in Hanslow from devolving into confusion. I had him here last sixday, and we worked on plans to begin a moderate reduction in the Hanslow garrison size. More important, he believes the Eywellese are so focused on their new leadership and adjusting to the disaster they suffered at Moreland City that we can make significant reductions in posts throughout the province without them noticing.”
Akuyun laid a hand on Kalcan’s shoulder and lowered his voice even more. “Morfred, there’s something else I’d like you to look into. Keep it between the two of us for now, and find some excuses for what I’m going to ask. I believe I remember you saying about a year ago that you had gone ashore on Klinwyn Island?” The eighteen-square-mile island lay eight miles off the western coast of Preddi Province. The terrain was rocky, except for a flat shelf on the eastern side with a small fishing and farming settlement—the only inhabited part of the island.
“More like two years ago,” said Kalcan, “and yes, I spent a few hours looking at its potential for a small naval station. The coast there forms an anchorage well protected by protruding peninsulas. We never felt the need to build any structures. All my captains know it’s available in case weather suddenly turns against them and they need temporary calmer waters.”
“I’d like you to investigate building a substantial station there,” said Akuyun. “At first, just a few buildings that might pass as housing administration and a permanent staff and space for ships’ crews laying up from storms. Then quietly carry out surveys to plan to rapidly construct extensive housing and storehouses.”
Kalcan’s expression had morphed from surprise to wonderment, to a grim acknowledgment of Akuyun’s direction. “Assuming you’ve not suddenly decided to take over naval planning and operations, I suspect this is to serve as an emergency refuge.”
Akuyun nodded, not surprised that Kalcan grasped his intent. “We have to consider every contingency. Even if and when reinforcements arrive, I’ll continue to have that itch I’ve told you about. The one nagging me that we’re engaged in a game where we don’t know the rules. Maybe the itch will subside, if I believe we have a place to quickly transfer thousands of civilians and hold them there for several months or more.”
Kalcan stroked his chin with the back of his left hand. “If . . . ” He hesitated while he considered Akuyun’s request. “Yes, I was thinking . . . what about the Seaborn Province? Not all the islands, but either one of the two larger ones or a smaller one. There’s more room there.”
“Consider that option, too,” said Akuyun, “but start off with Klinwyn Island. Seaborn’s much farther away. If we had to move large numbers of people quickly, it would have to be to Klinwyn. We could always move them to Seaborn as time permitted. I’ve even considered the possibility that we evacuate everyone, civilians and military, to one of the Seaborn islands. Again, this is to ensure we have options in case the situation deteriorates more than I expect.”
They reached the end of the pier, and their entourage formed a shield as they walked from the docks toward the headquarters building three hundred yards away. The aides stayed behind them, with the guards keeping a space between the two leaders and any person they passed. Most citizens were accustomed to the moving screen and made way without the guards’ action. A few oblivious workers had to be shouted aside and one roughly pushed against a building. Akuyun hated the necessity for the distance put between senior officers and lower ranks or civilians.
Halfway up the hill on whose summit sat the headquarters, Kalcan made a statement Akuyun felt tired of hearing, even if from his friend.
“Surely, a response from Narthon will arrive any day. It’s been more than enough time.”
Akuyun opened his mouth to respond, yet again, that they simply had to wait and carry on as best they could under the circumstances, when a naval aide spoke up behind them. “Admiral! A sloop is just visible coming around the southern headland. It’s flying full sail! Shouldn’t they be bringing in sail this close to the harbor?”
Kalcan spun and grabbed a telescope from another aide. He focused and scanned for the sloop. “It’s the Saber,” he said. He lowered the scope and turned to Akuyun. “She was picketed to the Northeast, with orders to return at the first sign of any Narthani ship on course here from Ezarkin.”
The most northerly Narthani port was on the western edge of the Melosian continent and the border with one of the Iraquinik states. Winds kept the waters free of ice that would otherwise have closed access to shore, and during the last five years, the Narthani had transformed the once isolated fishing village into a city to support an expansive shipbuilding complex and troop-staging base. Shipping between Narthon and Caedellium had gone almost exclusively through Ezarkin the last two years, along with the reports about the Moreland City setback. Akuyun and all the other senior officers assumed that when a response came from the High Command, the communiqué would also come through Ezarkin.
Akuyun’s chest tightened as his muscles briefly stopped working his lungs. Then he relaxed and took in several deep draughts of sea air. “So you think this is it, Morfred?” he said, briefly forgetting to maintain formal address in front of the other officers and ranks.
“We’ll know within the hour, General,” said Kalcan, using his friend’s title to remind him who listened. “My instinct is yes. It’s the right time, and Captain Irmal wouldn’t be pushing his ship so fast this close to the harbor if he didn’t believe he had information we needed to receive as quickly as possible.”
“What will it be, an hour before it’s docked and we find out why the hurry?” asked Akuyun.
“I could have a cutter meet him before he enters the harbor,” proposed Kalcan. “The cutter would get back to dockside a good twenty minutes before the sloop ties off.”
Akuyun pondered. If it was news from Narthon, what difference did a few minutes make? And it wouldn’t look good for him to appear too anxious.
“Go ahead. Send the cutter. I’ll be in my office.” Occasionally, I need to do something even if it’s not the best thing, thought Akuyun.
Akuyun stopped Kalcan before the two men went in opposite directions. “Morfred, whatever news might come from this sloop, still do as I ask about Klinwyn . . . and yes, Seaborn also. And be sure to avoid letting the intent be obvious.”
Kalcan nodded. Akuyun left him and walked toward headquarters without looking back again at the approaching sloop.
Forty-one minutes later, Akuyun pretended to be engaged in paperwork when footsteps in the outer room from his office were followed by rapid knocks at the door.
“Enter,” he called out.
He’d hardly finished speaking when his aide and guard leader, Major Perem Saljurk, burst through the door. Kalcan followed, dragging with him a young naval officer carrying a leather satchel.
“General, this is Third Officer Orkin from the sloop Saber,” panted Kalcan, his face flushed. “He has a confidential dispatch to be delivered only to you.”
Kalcan’s expression and voice expressed the admiral’s opinion of the dispatch’s topic.
“Then I suppose we should let Mr. Orkin perform his duty,” said Akuyun as casually as he could manage, although after months of waiting and wondering what the High Command’s response would be, he wanted to rip open the satchel and snatch out the message.
The nervous messenger cleared his throat. “I’m instructed to deliver the satchel contents only to General Okan Akuyun. Is this you, sir?”
Ak
uyun grunted.
“He’s obliged to do the formalities, General,” Kalcan said softly.
“Of course,” said Akuyun. “Yes, I’m General Okan Akuyun.”
“And I confirm,” said Kalcan.
The officer untied two thongs securing the satchel flap, opened the flap, and withdrew a leather dispatch cylinder with a sealed lid. He broke the seal, pulled out a rolled sheath of paper, and handed the sheath to Akuyun.
Kalcan and Saljurk waited anxiously, both knowing the importance of what Akuyun read. The naval officer stood unaware. Seconds went by. Akuyun read the first page, then the second, and only glanced at the third and fourth pages. He looked up. “Thank you, Third Officer Orkin. You’re dismissed.”
“Back to the Saber with you, Orkin,” said Kalcan. “Thank Captain Irmal for me and for General Akuyun.”
Akuyun waited until Saljurk ushered Orkin out of the room and closed the door.
“It seems the High Command really wants Caedellium,” said Akuyun. No one could mistake his relief and pleasure at the words. “Reinforcements are being sent. Major reinforcements. Although I suppose I should say another force and not reinforcements, because those coming will be under Marshal Dursun Gullar and not me.”
“A marshal?” queried Kalcan. “How many are coming and, even more important, when?”
Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4) Page 3