Chapter 47: First Attack
Munmar Kellan
Captain Munmar Kellan spent a sleepless night preparing his company of a hundred men to move into position. He also did what he could to encourage the men. He told them they would succeed in their assignment the next day and conveyed his full confidence in their orders. He lied.
He wondered whether he or any of his men would live to sundown. They would lead the assault. He saw what had happened to the regiments thrown at the city’s walls the first time the army passed this place. Although the fortifications blocking their way back to Preddi City did not look as formidable, the first wave would absorb the full brunt of the islanders’ fire.
He felt afraid, which a Narthani should never feel, but he wouldn’t show it—not to his men, not to other Narthani, and not to an enemy. He was Narthani of an honorable family that had served the empire back to when their people came out of the great northern steppes. He had hidden his fears all of his life or at least as far back as when he first recognized something different about himself, compared to the other men in his family. They would never be afraid. Yet lately he had wondered whether they hid it as he did. Either way, he would do his duty and trust that Narth would be merciful—if not in this life, then in the next.
Dursun Gullar
Narthani marshal Dursun Gullar, commander of the Twenty-Ninth Corps, woke three hours before first light when an aide gently shook his arm. He’d slept five hours—enough to be sharp of wits for the morning. Other men, given his responsibilities, might not have slept at all. Gullar was not other men. He had long ago learned to discipline himself to do what was needed, even if his body and mind objected. He feared he would need all of his wits and discipline this coming day. He had served the empire ever since joining the army as a fifteen-year-old boy, barely shaving. His family was old-line Narthani of an insignificant lineage. He could still remember the determination of that boy, who secretly swore to himself he would raise his family to the prominent ranks of Narthani society.
He kept secrets, but a main one now was his pride at having achieved that boy’s goal. He was a marshal of the Narthani army, having risen from a pathetically young and naïve youth to command an entire corps of infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Honors and victories filled his years of service, though not always the latter, because circumstance could favor either side of a conflict. Yet enough victories to repeatedly mark him for advancement. He had led a regiment that turned back a Fuomon attack threatening an entire army. His regiment had been decimated but had saved the army. This led to his promotion to division commander, where he served for four years. During most of that time, he faced the Iraquiniks as Narthon pushed deeper into Confederation territory. The last two years had been a frustrating time of taking and losing the same territory over and over. The Iraquinik defenses, capabilities, and terrain features finally made the High Command decide to seek another route to expand west of Narthon. By then, Gullar was a corps commander who might someday lead an army of many corps.
When orders came to pull his corps back from the front, he wondered whether his corps’ performance had been found unsatisfactory, although he couldn’t see why. His worry about being replaced was assuaged when High Command told him the opposite: that they considered him a reliable corps commander—although he noted they didn’t say superior. They gave him a new assignment that required an experienced leader. Thus, he learned, for the first time, of the plan to jump over the Iraquiniks on Narthon’s western border. A large island, 1,600 miles northwest of the Landolin land mass, was to be converted into a fortress and a relay-and-supply point to invade one of the Landolin nations, which, in turn, would be the base to subjugate the rest of Landolin and start a second front against the Iraquiniks. Once Narthon faced enemies on only one border, the Fuomi and its allies would get the empire’s full attention.
Gullar’s assignment was to use his corps to crush the resistance on Caedellium. Although the islanders had fought the existing Narthani to a standoff in a battle a few months previously, the lack of success was reasonably attributed to not enough Narthani forces, the need to rely too much on islanders’ allied auxiliaries, and a more determined islander defense than expected. Gullar’s corps was to solve all those issues.
However, the on-site circumstances had confounded the mission. The islanders simply didn’t do what he’d been led to believe they would do. This, when combined with incomplete intelligence on the islanders themselves and the island’s geography, brought him and his men to this day. It wasn’t the first time he had led men in a desperate situation, but the last time it had been a regiment of two thousand, whereas now he had forty-six thousand men from the Twenty-Ninth Corps. For Narthon to lose an entire regiment was regrettable, but in that instance long ago, it had saved tens of thousands of others. To lose an entire corps would be a major blow to both Narthon’s military and its reputation. In addition, the remaining Narthani on the island would be in grave danger.
The islanders were far more skilled than anyone had anticipated. Even with the Fuomi’s help, what they had accomplished here alone was startling. To have constructed a two-and-a-half-mile length of earthworks in this short time spoke of a long-term plan and not a spur-of-the-moment decision to act on an opportunity. Gullar might logically tell himself he had only dealt with what was known, but he felt bitter for letting his corps fall into a carefully laid trap—one they needed to break out of, and quickly, or the entire corps would be in grave peril.
Today would tell the story. They had to break through the fortifications. They would never be stronger than they were this morning. There would be no probing attacks. The time for those was past. It would be an all-out assault . No matter the cost, they had to break through into more open country, where their discipline and experience would frustrate the islanders.
Yozef to the Front
Yozef had spent the previous evening with his family. Once again, Denes and the others had insisted that he rest as much as possible. They explicitly stated this would help him come up with fresh ideas the next day, but the implicit message was so that his hearing would be sharp for any communiqués from . . . you know.
None of the three adults said anything about the next day. They talked about the food, about Aeneas’s day, about the coming new addition to the family, feeling the baby move inside Anarynd, but never the next day. Anarynd put Aeneas down to sleep, then gave both Yozef and Maera tight hugs, and without another word went to her room. Maera took Yozef by the hand, led him to her room, and made sure his mind was on something other than the Narthani, at least for an hour. Then, spent, he fell asleep before stray thoughts could reemerge.
Two hours before first light, a knock on the bedroom door woke Maera—or, rather, prompted her to rise since she had lain awake next to Yozef for an hour.
Maera went to the door. Carnigan waited. Neither said anything. He nodded. She nodded back.
“He’ll be ready in a few minutes, Carnigan.”
She started to turn away, then turned back. “I know you will, but I have to say it anyway. Please keep him alive.” Her voice had a slight tremble that surprised her.
“I will, if it’s at all possible, Maera. He’s the best of us, and I’m not sure what we’d do without him.”
She looked up at him in surprise. It had taken a long time for Carnigan to use her first name, and he had never expressed to her how he felt about Yozef.
She moved quickly to give him a symbolic hug. With him being so big and her on the small side, there was no way she could reach around him, so it was more like pressing tight.
“I know you’ll look after him, Carnigan. I know, I know. Oh, damn, I wish he didn’t think he has to be out there today!”
“I wish he didn’t either, both because he’s my friend and because I know how important he is. And trust me, Maera. He doesn’t want to be out there, either. But he’s going to be, because he thinks he has to be there. He will be as frightened as anyone, but he will be there and d
o whatever he can. That’s how he is. It’s a level of courage many would not understand, but I hope you do as much as I do.”
Maera’s eyes finally overflowed, and several tears ran down her cheeks.
“I know,” she acknowledged. “He can be the most exasperating man at times, and he refuses to let himself be put into a single understandable role.”
“That’s because he’s Yozef Kolsko.”
Maera felt surprised again. The big man had always been the skeptic, the one who made fun of suggestions that Yozef was anything special, always having a caustic comment when any of Yozef’s ideas worked or at signs of deference to him. But something seemed different on this day. Carnigan’s words and tone betrayed that he too felt convinced there was something extraordinary about the strange man who had come into all of their lives.
Fully dressed, Yozef interrupted their embrace as he came into the room.
“Say, there, are you two having an affair behind my back?” he said in an effort to lighten the obvious emotional mood.
“Alas,” said Carnigan, “I’ve begged her to leave you and marry a real man, but who can fathom the thoughts of a woman?”
“Not when I’ve already got a real man,” Maera dug back, elbowing Carnigan and moving to hug her husband. This time her arms could go mostly around the object of the embrace. Anarynd appeared and joined in. She held a still-sleeping Aeneas in an arm and partly supported on her belly. The four stood for almost a minute, then Yozef broke it up.
“Time we get going, Carnigan. There’s a day’s work to do today.”
“That there is, that there is.”
“I’ll see you all tonight,” said Yozef and, without another word, walked out.
As Carnigan followed, Maera said softly, “And you, too, Carnigan. You look after yourself. Gwyned has lost enough and doesn’t deserve to lose you, too.”
The normal Carnigan was back. He simply grunted and followed Yozef.
Maera closed the door and turned to Anarynd and the baby.
“You’re going out, too, aren’t you, Maera?” Anarynd’s said, her voice firm but sad.
“Yes, Ana. Just like Yozef has to go, so do I. I’m Hetman Keelan’s daughter. Father can’t be on the line, with his leg still bothering him, or he would be there. Several thousand Keelanders are there, including Ceinwyn, so I have to be with them, whatever happens. Plus, I’m the wife of Yozef Kolsko! I’d rather be with him, but he doesn’t need the distraction of me nearby. He’ll think clearer about what needs to be done if he assumes you and I both are safe within the city.”
“I wish I could be there, too, Maera,” said Anarynd, “even though I don’t know how useful I would be.”
“You are important, Ana. You know you have to stay here to care for our two babies. They will be safe here, and should something happen to either Yozef or myself, or both of us, we’ll know that the children will be cared for.”
“Kill them all, Maera,” Anarynd hissed with a twisted grimace. “Kill every God-cursed Narthani out there today!”
Anarynd let out series of vicious curses and damnations the likes of which Maera had never heard from her friend’s mouth or even from many men. It finally ended when Maera embraced her, and they both broke into tears, which morphed into sobbing laughter.
Anarynd asked a final question: “Yozef doesn’t know what you’re doing, does he?”
“No. He would only have raised a fuss and might even have assigned someone to keep me here and ‘safe.’ This way he doesn’t have to worry. Whatever happens will be over before he knows. He’s planning to be at the center of the earthworks where they think the Narthani will likely launch their main attack. I’ll find a place well enough away from where he is. It also reduces the chances of something happening to us both. With thousands of our people out there today, I’ll be lost among all of them.”
With one last look at Ana and Aeneas, Maera walked out, leaving Anarynd to wait.
On the Line
Yozef and Carnigan made their way through the city streets, then out one of the gates in the wall, and walked the mile and a half to Denes’s station. As much as Yozef felt ill at ease with the attention so many islanders paid to him, this was no time to quibble. The Caedelli needed all of the fortitude they could muster. If some of the people took heart from a Septarsh on their side and moving among them, then so be it.
The two men stopped at a position on the berm ramparts. Denes and his staff stood twenty yards away, with messengers running in all directions. Yozef had no part to play. It was all in motion and up to men such as Denes and Stent to command and make decisions. Yozef had come only “in case” he had insights or advice.
Carnigan was there to protect Yozef, if possible, or, as he told himself and others, to keep him from doing anything extremely stupid. Unbeknownst to Yozef, Carnigan had orders from Denes, with the approval of the War Council, that if things went badly, Carnigan should take Yozef to safety, even if it meant giving him a thump on the head and carrying him off unconscious.
Carnigan also had had a family goodbye that morning before collecting Yozef. Gwyned and two-year-old Morwena saw him off from their room. They hadn’t told anyone, but they were planning on being wed. Gwyned was pregnant, though not as far along as Anarynd. After leaving Morwena with Braithe and Aeneas, she would be on the city walls, doing whatever she could to help the fighting men by carrying water and reloading muskets.
For Filtin Fuller, the morning meant taking his position as commander of a battery of four 25-pounder carronades. The last sixdays he had gone from being one of Yozef’s best project foreman to commanding one of the last cannon batteries activated from the Caernford foundry. He had moved his family from Abersford to Caernford at Yozef’s inducement of higher pay, more responsibility, and the opportunity to stay at the forefront of whatever Yozef Kolsko came up with next. Which of the three inducements was most influential in his decision to move was an open question.
Although Filtin’s switch from shop to cannon was recent, he had observed and listened to Yozef’s insistence on endless drills. Thus, he had worked his forty men mercilessly until they could literally load and fire blindfolded. His assignment to artillery had been automatic, because he had contributed to designing improved canister cartridges and had also come up with an innovative solution to a problem with grapeshot, whose disadvantage was that the intermediate-sized shot tended to bounce off the inside of the barrel to score the inner surface after firing. Filtin’s idea had been to make grapeshot cartridges, instead of using bags, and to add musket balls and smaller shotgun pellets to fill gaps between the grapeshot balls. This kept the grapeshot moving forward and not bouncing around on the way out. As an unexpected side effect, the tighter pattern of grapeshot allowed better specific targeting at the farthest edge of the grapeshot’s range.
On this day, Filtin and his men stood ready. Because of their late arrival, no position remained for them at the berm. Denes told them to wait in the rear as a reserve, and they wouldn’t load their carronades until they knew whether they would be firing at Narthani artillery batteries or advancing infantry.
Cirwyn Gwillamer and twelve hundred Gwillamese fighters had ridden hard after the call for all available men reached their province. His father, Cadoc Gwillamer, was too old to make the hard ride in the time needed and had stayed with the bulk of his clan in the Dillagon redoubt. Those who did make the hard ride to Orosz City arrived only the previous evening at sunset. They were among the last to arrive and had traveled the farthest. They had enough food for another two days and thus were not plugged in to the Orosz City logistics system. Their assignment was to function as one of the reserves, to move where Narthani might be liable to breach the defenses or where losses on the ramparts needed replacements.
The Gwillamese had followed Yozef’s dragoon-training guidelines and had contributed to several actions against the Narthani. Almost eight hundred Gwillamer men rode with Welman Stent, shadowing and harassing the Narthani army, and a Gwill
amer battalion was stationed near the river, at the distal end of the defensive line. The twelve hundred men with Cirwyn consisted of his clan’s last significant fighting men—and women, almost a hundred of whom were able riders and strong enough to serve within the force. He had confidence in his clan’s people and they in him. He tried to keep in mind Yozef’s admonition not to lead from the front, but Cirwyn knew if he fell this day, either of his two younger brothers back in Gwillamer would capably take his place as heir.
“It’s time to move farther away from Denes,” said Carnigan, breaking into Yozef’s thoughts. “He wants you far enough from him that you both don’t get killed at the same time.”
“As opposed to different times?” Yozef said, his mouth dry.
Wait for First Light
The eastern horizon showed no hint of the first light of coming dawn. Yet 150,000 men and women were awake and moving—more than 100,000 islanders to the earthworks or the southern Orosz City wall, and just under 50,000 Narthani moving into their assigned positions. The islanders didn’t want to risk an earlier-than-expected Narthani attack and would nap in place, if they could. All would wait. Some would pray. Islanders to merciful God; Narthani to Narth, God of War. All would pray for victory. Many would pray for their own survival. Many would pray for their families if they should fall his day. Many prayed for courage. None prayed for the opponents they faced on the Orosz City plain.
Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4) Page 65