Every building within the city had been examined and assigned people to house. A house or rooms that normally held a family of five were sufficient to hold twenty sleeping bodies. The clans had set up huge food sites throughout the city. Everyone would have sufficient calories, albeit from a monotonous diet heavy in bread, cooked dried legumes (natives of both Earth and Anyar), dried meat and sausage, dollops of dried vegetables, fruit, and fish. Several streams ran from the mountains into and through the city, so water was not a problem. What to do with human waste on a scale the city had never had to deal with previously was solved with temporary slit trenches with cloth screens for minimal privacy. Medicants paired with roving patrols to ensure that people adhered to strict sanitary measures. As with all preparations, it wasn’t elegant but would serve the purpose.
Included in the frenetic activity of the city was a flurry of comings and goings at the islander command post in city center. The entire upper level of the three-story building housed the two pits and the meeting rooms. Yozef looked at the last communiqué from Hetman Stent.
“They’ve left Moreland City and are headed in this direction.” He looked up to see questions in many eyes in the room. “Stent is trying to lure them northwest toward the Moraine Site, which we think is our best option to get them in a position to defeat them. So far, they aren’t cooperating. Stent says he’ll press them harder, short of an outright field battle, but it looks like they’ve settled on the strategy of cutting the island in half after taking Orosz City. I think it’s the logical choice, but we’d hoped for the Moraine Site. If they continue, then it’ll have to be here.”
He stopped for a moment, then continued. “Moreland City has been burned to the ground.” Sighs, groans, snarls, curses, and assorted noises reverberated around the room.
“We expected this. Always remember that cities can be rebuilt, even if we use Narthani bones as reinforcement.” Yozef thought he’d throw in the last comment to try to soften the news. It worked . . . for some.
“I think we can only give them another day or two to change their minds. If Stent fails to draw them after his men, we’ll move to the next stage. As we’ve planned, from that point on we will not harass their flanks. We’ll want them to keep coming, though Stent will stay at their front to keep their attention and slow them down to give us every possible minute to prepare.”
The Oroszians in the room imagined the Narthani army sweeping a destructive path through their province. While none liked it, most accepted the necessity. Those who hadn’t accepted in their hearts had done so in their minds—it was going to happen, so they moved on with their assignments.
Hetman Orosz felt optimistic. “Even if the Narthani are not slowed, it would take them another four to five days to reach us. From the level of influx of people and reports from all provinces, everyone will be inside before then. As expected, we have various problems with settling and feeding people, but all things considered, I believe we can handle it. Naturally, and as we all know, the situation can’t last too long, or it will start to break down, and by too long, I mean more than two months. After that, the situation could get critical.”
The Fuomi leader, Rintala, spoke up. “I don’t believe the Narthani will sit outside the walls for longer than a sixday at the most. For them, the situation is simple. Either they attack and breach your defenses soon, or they give up trying to take Orosz City, no matter how important a goal they see it. Their problem is that, at least as far as our own intelligence and your spies into Narthani-controlled Caedellium report, they don’t plan on lengthy sieges. No city defenses can stop a large-enough army willing to pay the price. Normally, if defenses are too strong, a besieging army will either starve out a city or dig deep trenchwork closer and closer to the defenses, until they are close enough to bring in heavy siege mortars and cannon. They then degrade the defenses to the point that a manned assault can succeed. Siege mortars lob explosive charges over the walls, and cannon fire large balls into walls until they crumble. That takes both the equipment and time, something this army might not think it has. It’s also questionable if they have enough men to overcome your defenses. With a professional Fuomi defense force, I would say no. But here, it is hard to evaluate how well your people will hold up under a determined assault.
“You can expect them to probe around the edges of your defenses to see if there is a weakness. I doubt they will find it, since the city is perfectly nestled against the mountains on two sides, but they will try, just in case. That should take a couple of days.
“If and when that fails, their commander will have to decide whether to try an assault. My guess would be they try at least once. Now that they’ve already come here, I doubt they’ll simply move on. The questions then are whether they try more than once, how many casualties their commander is willing to take, and how well your people fight. You might not have the strongest defenses I’ve ever seen, but you have some nasty surprises that will cost the Narthani dearly. If I had to make an experienced estimate, I would say that the Narthani could breach your defenses but would pay such a high price, the army might be unable to subjugate the rest of the island—a price I doubt their experienced commander will accept.”
“I concur with Commander Rintala,” said Yozef. “The Narthani will probe the edges of our fortifications and then try a direct assault. What they might do is an initial trial assault, one they do not expect to work but that will allow them to test the strength of our defense. Then, based on the test, they’ll attempt at least one full-scale attack on what they believe is a relative weak spot.”
“Do we have weak spots?” asked Hetman Orosz.
Yozef grimaced. “If we thought we did, we could have done something to strengthen them. It all depends on the Narthani’s view. It’s always possible they find one we missed, or they might think they found one that isn’t. It all still comes down to their trying it somewhere. Therefore, we have to be ready to meet them anytime at any point.”
“This test attack,” questioned Klyngo Adris, the Adris hetman. “Do you mean to say they would send . . . what? . . . thousands of men to attack our walls, knowing they will fail? They would be deliberately sacrificed for information?”
“Without hesitation,” answered Rintala. “The thinking would be that by sacrificing a few hundred or even a thousand men, they could uncover a way to defeat you and complete their mission. A Narthani commander would do it without thinking, as long as he believed the sacrifice wouldn’t impair the overall capability of his forces.”
“Would you or another Fuomi make the same decision?” asked a blank-faced Hetman Stent.
“I might if I thought the circumstances required it,” Rintala answered matter-of-factly, “although I wouldn’t do it as casually as a Narthani.”
Several of the men shook their heads in disbelief, shock, and dismay.
“Remember,” Yozef said, “this is a war to the death, at least for Caedellium. The Narthani and even the Fuomi come from a different world than you are familiar with. Fighting wars on a large scale requires thinking differently, particularly about the ultimate goals. For the Narthani, they might sacrifice those men to achieve their assigned mission. But consider Caedellium.”
He paused and looked around the room, and his eyes settled on Lordum Hewell.
“Lordum,” he said softly, using the hetman’s first name to emphasize camaraderie, “what would you do if you were leading a thousand men about to be trapped and all killed by the Narthani? There was one chance to save most of your men, but it required you to order a hundred of those men to stand and fight to the last man to delay the Narthani so the other nine hundred could escape and live to fight another day. What would you do?”
The Hewell hetman looked as if he had just bitten into the most bitter fruit imaginable, but his eyes never left Yozef.
“I would order the men to stand and delay the Narthani.”
“Even though you knew they would all die?” prompted Yozef softly.
“E
ven though.”
“And what if your thousand men were from several different clans, but the hundred men in the best position or the best condition were from Hewell?”
Lordum’s face got longer and grayer.
“I would order them to stay,” he said, his voice grating as if he hated every word.
Yozef turned to the entire group with what he hoped was a stern face.
“What Hetman Hewell just said illustrates two important points. One is that during warfare, it is sometimes necessary to sacrifice the few to save the many. Second is that this is not a war of one clan at a time against the Narthani. It’s all of Caedellium against them. All of you, and many of our other mid- and higher-level commanders, lead men from different clans. They have to all be treated exactly the same. Any unit where the men believe the commander is favoring the safety of men from his own clan over them will disintegrate as a fighting force. In the same manner, any commander who is inclined to give such favored treatment will make mistakes that cost more lives than only those he might have to sacrifice. You and the other leaders must be able to sacrifice men if it becomes necessary. But it’s also your responsibility to see that situations don’t arise that require you to make such a decision.”
Yozef hoped all the men in the room both acknowledged and accepted the lesson, and they would pass it on to other leaders. He also fervently prayed he would never have to make such a decision himself and wondered whether he could. Naturally, being Yozef Kolsko, he could never share such wonderings.
“But let’s return to the immediate business,” Yozef urged. “The Narthani are heading toward Orosz City. Hetman Stent will continue trying to lure them to the Moraine Site, but if that fails, it means the Narthani are coming here.”
“In that case, we want them to get to Orosz City, try to take the city, and then when they can’t, we’ll wait and see what course of action they choose, probably continuing to Adris.
“Assuming they’re coming to Orosz City, Hetman Stent’s men will demonstrate in front of them and make some efforts to slow them down and not make them too suspicious that coming on to Orosz City is exactly what we want them to do. We want them to think there are no more than twenty thousand clansmen opposing them. The rest of the men will remain within the city as part of the defense or stay outside of their scout sweeps.”
Yozef hated what he was about to do, but in for a penny, in for a pound—or whatever.
He half-closed his eyes, looked at a wall, and focused, as if gazing a long distance.
In a half-whisper, almost talking to himself, he said, “It comes to me that the best chance to destroy this Narthani army with the least cost to Caedellium is if they exhaust themselves trying to take our strongest defenses. Then, when the Narthani are weakened, our men swoop in from all sides and finish them off. I can’t see whether that will come to pass against the city’s walls or when they pass this way again. Either way . . . yes . . . either way I see the end of the Narthani on Caedellium. What I cannot see is the price we’ll have to pay or exactly where this will happen, but I don’t see failure, as long as we stick to our plan.”
I think that’s a good enough show. He pretended to remember where he was, refocused his eyes on the men surrounding him, and felt both relieved and not quite ashamed but something close. In his earlier life, he would have felt intimidated by their capabilities, self-confidence, and responsibilities. Here, he had essentially lied to them—feeding on the rumors of his being a Septarsh, a messenger from God.
Some of the faces looking at him appeared full of confidence, others resigned to whatever price they might have to pay but encouraged by the eventual outcome, a few—thankfully, only a few—in awe.
“Where was I . . . ?” mumbled Yozef.
“The disposition of our men,” Hetman Orosz said gently.
“Yes, yes. We will pretend to keep them from Orosz City, let them try to breach the defenses, and see how committed they are to taking the city.”
He looked around.
“Are there any questions? No? Then may God guide our hands and our minds.”
A chorus of “God Grant!” rang throughout the room.
Narthani Army, Orosz City
Marshal Gullar was not a particularly pious man. Neither was he a particularly warm person. For both reasons, he tried to be careful in his language—avoiding unnecessary cursing or displays of anger—except for moments such as this. The sixty-eight miles from Moreland City to Orosz City had been frustrating. The islanders had changed their tactics. For twenty miles, the main islander force stayed to their northern flank. Several heavy skirmishes erupted, and twice Gullar thought the clans might be setting up for a battle that didn’t materialize.
“Almost like they’re trying to lure us to follow them to the north,” said General Avan.
“I’ve wondered the same thing,” said Gullar. “Which encourages me that they don’t want us attacking Orosz City. We’ll keep to our current plan and ignore any such attempts at diverting us.”
From that point on, flanking scouts and patrols no longer found themselves facing clan horsemen. The land they passed through appeared empty, even of islanders merely observing their progress. By the third day, the outer scouts had ridden up to twelve miles from the army, without engagements or even sightings of islanders. It was different to their front. A mass of islander cavalry kept inserting itself between the army and Orosz City as Stent shifted his entire force to slow the Narthani’s progress. Shots were repeatedly exchanged, and twice a battle again seemed imminent, only to have the Caedelli pull back after light losses. The main difference was that the Narthani could not penetrate the islanders more than one mile to their line of march. They could continue with confidence about what happened on their flanks but with no knowledge of what lay in front of them.
That answer came when they arrived at Orosz City, and the clan force continued east past the city. Gullar’s reticence to curse was sorely tested, then failed when he heard the confirmed reports on what passed for the clan capital in front of them.
Gullar spend a good five minutes stomping back and forth in the command carriage, running through every curse he knew. Those witnessing this wondered whether he made up some as he ranted. Finally, he ran out of steam. He took several deep breaths and turned to face the concerned generals waiting for his response to the reports.
He looked at his subordinates, grinned humorously, and tried to reassure them.
“Please excuse my . . . shall we call it a lapse in piety? However, I think you all may grant me the reports are such to test even the greatest of Narth saints.”
A chorus of support followed—more politic than heartfelt, but also relieved that the commander had recovered from his momentary spleen.
“What we find in front of us is not a Caedellium capitol city, with much of the city extending outside a decent but not extensive wall, but an entire city surrounded by fortifications, including bastions studded with cannon. I believe the reports we were given said that the clans had a meeting place for their leaders in a building placed well outside the city and undefended, to signify openness, where the different clans could come to settle differences.” The last words dripped sarcasm.
“It seems the reports prepared by the mission that’s been on Caedellium for several years have SOMEHOW MISSED A FEW PERTINENT FACTS!”
“Pardon, Marshal,” said his second-in-command, “but didn’t the reports also note that their information was up to a year old, because the islanders rooted out most of our agents? Isn’t it possible the islanders have constructed these fortifications since the last information came out of Orosz?”
Gullar glared at his second. “Subordinates that contradict superiors tend not to get future advancement.” Then he put a hand on his second’s shoulder and squeezed.
“You’re right, there could be other explanations, but such explanations are meaningless to us at this juncture. Our concern is only what is the situation and what do we do next?”
He looked again at the city a mile or more distant.
“Report,” he stated with a neutral voice. “What are we facing?”
The lead element general answered. “The city is surrounded by a two-mile-long continuous fortification that encloses what appears to be about half of the original city’s area. What we assume were individual dwellings and smaller buildings outside those walls were burned and the remains removed to create clear fields of fire. The fortifications we can see consist of forty-eight bastions about two hundred feet apart, twenty-five feet high, and jutting about ten feet out from a fifteen-foot wall. The bastions are placed such that each can support its neighbors. Any infantry trying to attack one bastion would be raked by canister from the two adjacent bastions. The walls seem to be masonry, but we can’t be sure of what composition or thickness. The bastion masonry is apparently of a different composition, since the color and mottling are different. The fortifications extend to the mountains backing two sides of the city. The enclosed city is a slightly higher elevation than where we are, so we cannot see beyond. A fifteen-foot-wide, four-foot-deep trench is up to the base of the bastions and ten feet from the wall. The trench has no standing water, but from what we can see, it looks like water had been there—making us wonder if the bottom of the trench is mud of an unknown depth and if water could be filled when they want.
“There looks to be multiple cannon in each bastion. If they are not trying to fool us with fake cannon, it would mean upwards of at least a hundred cannon of different sizes, possibly many more. Our artillery officers believe at least some of the bastion cannon are in the size range of 30-pounders.”
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