Forged in Fire (Destiny's Crucible Book 4)

by Olan Thorensen

  “I hope you know that the Narthani view of the world will eventually destroy your empire and its people,” said Yozef. “Creating and nurturing hate can only lead to one end.”

  “Not many of my people would agree,” answered Akuyun. “Our way of expanding is all any of us know from birth, and from what histories we have of our people. I doubt if many could imagine any other way.”

  Yozef noticed Akuyun didn’t dispute his prediction.

  “You might consider my words and wonder if there might not be another way forward for the Narthani. But whatever happens, do not ever come again to Caedellium with similar intentions. You saw what happened when you came here with eighty thousand men, even though the clans were not prepared. That lack will not happen again. The clans are now united as they have never been. We are producing our own cannon in quantity and will build fortifications grander than what you have yet seen from us. We also now have the Fuomi as allies and have contact with the Iraquiniks and one of the Landolin nations. None of those enemies of yours will tolerate the unopposed conquest of Caedellium. Our people simply want to be left alone. Any future attempt to conquer Caedellium will be met with no quarter. Consider it a warning that Caedellium would have to actively join in with other nations in fighting you on the seas and other land masses.”

  “I will pass on the warning, but I doubt how seriously it will be received. However, I think both my people and the Fuomi will be interested in searching for information about where exactly you came from and where on Anyar are the rest of your people.”

  “I wish you all well in your searches,” said Yozef. “I admit I would like to have contact with my people again.” And good luck in that, as soon as you get spaceships and any clue exactly where in the galaxy both Anyar and Earth are located.

  A bell clanged loudly from the last ship.

  “That’s my notice. It’s time I boarded. Good luck to you, Yozef Kolsko, in your life among these who are not your original people. Whoever you are and wherever you are from, I wish you good health and long life.”

  With no other words between them, Akuyun walked toward the ship. Yozef and Balwis returned to a roped-off part of the wharf where others waited.

  For the next hour, Yozef watched while the ship sailed slowly out of Preddi harbor, then raised full sail and disappeared. He wondered how Okan Akuyun would fare, and he hoped he’d never see him again on Caedellium.

  Chapter 52: Three Clans

  Conclave

  An All-Clan Conclave convened in Neath in southwest Eywell Province shortly after the Narthani departed, the first conclave ever held outside of Orosz City. Seventeen clans were represented by their hetmen; Moreland’s factions still maneuvered without agreeing on a new leader, and Abbot Abelard continued to be Moreland’s representative.

  At Yozef’s insistence, a green-and-white Caedellium flag flew in front of the building appropriated for the conclave, a flag now including twenty-one small stars encircling the large central star. He wondered how many people counted the small stars and realized there were twenty-one on this flag, instead of the eighteen stars in the original flag.

  Hetman Orosz struck the ceremonial gong. He needed only one strike to quell conversations among hetmen and advisers, which surprised most of the attendees, given the ebullient mood still reverberating throughout the island.

  “This All-Clan Conclave is formally open,” intoned Tomis Orosz in his role as conclave chair. “We have two main issues to discuss and decide on today. Once we deal with these, additional issues may be proposed. The first issue is whether to disband the War Council now that the Narthani are gone. Several hetmen have asked to speak. After consultations with all hetmen having strong views on this issue, two hetmen will present arguments for the two options, disband or retain. The first to speak is Hetman Bevans.”

  Zitwyn Bevans left his seat and walked to the front of the room. “Fellow hetmen, we all rejoice that the Narthani have been expelled from Caedellium. To accomplish what seemed at the time to be an almost impossible task, we agreed to temporarily relinquish clan independence and follow the dictates of the War Council. I was one of those most reluctant to agree, but I acceded once it became clear that most of the clans were in favor. I didn’t want my clan to be obstructive, and, let’s be honest, I was concerned for Clan Bevans’s future should the rest of the clans come to view us as a liability in their commitment to fight the Narthani.

  “However, I admit that my original resistance was not wise, and the War Council was a lamentable necessity, a necessity whose time has passed. The council’s purpose has been achieved—the Narthani are gone, and it’s time for the clans to resume their traditional independence.”

  Yozef stood in the back of the room and didn’t sit with the Keelan Clan. Culich had been adamant that it would be best to avoid the appearance of too much influence by a single clan. Yozef didn’t see the problem, because everyone knew his history, but he gave in to his father-in-law’s insistence.

  Having stated the proposal to dissolve the War Council, Zitwyn Bevans proceeded to drone on about the history of clan independence, all of which the hetmen were well aware. Yozef quit paying attention within the first five minutes.

  Come on, Zitwyn, Yozef groaned to himself, get on with it. He glanced around the room. Most hetmen watched Bevans attentively, but Yozef wasn’t fooled. The Bevans hetman was well-regarded personally, but no other hetmen looked to him for complex thoughts. Yozef’s survey of the room stopped when he got to Culich. Am I imagining it, or does Culich look a little too pleased with what Zitwyn is saying? Culich would present the case for a permanent central authority, the details to be discussed but perhaps involving an evolution of the War Council. Why would he be pleased to hear an argument directly counter to what he’ll propose? An answer popped into Yozef’s mind. You old dog! I bet this is a setup! Somehow you arranged for Zitwyn to argue for a position you want the conclave to dismiss, and who better to be unconvincing than Zitwyn?

  Yozef’s long-standing admiration for Culich’s dealings with clan politics rose another step higher.

  When Bevans finished, he returned to his delegation with approving comments from the Bevansites and polite murmurs from other men.

  Orosz gave the gong a light tap. “Next will be Hetman Keelan to propose a continuation of the War Council.”

  Culich stumped to face the other hetmen, his peg leg rapping on the wooden planks as he walked. “Fellow hetmen, first let me both rephrase Hetman Orosz’s words and agree with Hetman Bevans’s statement that the War Council is no longer needed. However, this does not mean that Caedellium has no need of mechanisms to coordinate the clans, and that is what I will propose, that we agree to form a central authority. Exactly what the powers of that authority would be and what would be the obligations of each clan are complex details that will need serious consideration. However, what the Narthani should have taught us is that Caedellium can no longer continue as an island of independent clans, none of which has the strength or wisdom to exist in a world of belligerent realms.”

  From his position in the back of the room, Yozef couldn’t see all the hetmen’s faces, but the few in view were all attentive to the Keelan hetman’s words.

  Culich then called on Eina Saisannin to give a short assertion on the importance of a permanent central authority. The Fuomi presence had been bolstered when a Fuomi fleet arrived three months after the Narthani defeat and before all Narthani left the island. After a brief skirmish at sea, a parley of fleet admirals agreed to keep their distance, because the Narthani were departing and the Caedelli insisted the Fuomi leave their enemy alone due to the armistice.

  Eina rose and walked to the front of the room. “Do not delude yourselves that the Narthani threat is over. Yes, you have driven them off Caedellium, but no one can predict Narthon’s future actions. They could try again to conquer your island, either with even more forces or when they perceive a time of weakness. And yes, a Fuomi fleet currently protects your waters, but this ca
nnot be a permanent situation. My people wish Caedellium well, but the time will come when our fleet is needed elsewhere. Caedellium will need to be strong enough to protect itself when that day comes. Since it is impossible to know how serious future threats will be, you need to be as strong as possible. Does anyone here believe that your maximum strength can come from independent clans? Even if you reestablish a War Council when confronted with a new threat, the time lost in responding and the lack of centralized preparation could be fatal.

  “And while your attention has been on the Narthani, do not ignore other possible threats. Now that Caedellium has come to the attention of Narthon and Fuomon, the same awareness will inevitably include other realms. The enemies of Narthon are not necessarily your friends. The Iraquinik Confederacy is focused on stopping the Narthani from expanding into their lands, but any one of its members, or coalition, could turn its attention to Caedellium, if only to prevent Narthani control. Similarly, the kingdoms of Landolin could do the same. Even my own people, the Fuomi, could, at some future time, decide that Caedellium is too weak and too unorganized to leave to its own devices. Who but God might say what will come?

  “Consider carefully, clans of Caedellium. Is complete independence of each clan so important to risk losing it all, or is there some middle ground, some compromise with enough central control to protect you from outside forces while maintaining your clans’ identities? It’s not an easy goal but one that I pray you will work toward.”

  Saisannin finished, nodded to Hetman Orosz, and returned to her seat at the side of the room. The Fuomi ambassador’s closing statement had a definite impact, as evidenced by hetmen and advisers straightening in their chairs and the buzz humming over the room.

  “Looks promising,” Kivalian whispered. The Fuomi had chosen to stand with Yozef, instead of sitting with Saisannin and Rintala.

  “Promising doesn’t buy doughnuts,” whispered Yozef in return. “Errr . . . I mean food. But you’re right. At least, no one such as Nyvaks jumped up screaming at the idea.”

  The Nyvaks Clan hetman had been unusually quiescent since the Narthani defeat at Orosz City. Culich thought one factor was Yozef’s miraculous recovery from wounds as the battle ended.

  Well, thought Yozef, I certainly sucked up to that idiot after Culich clued me in. If it takes Nyvaks thinking me a Septarsh to shut him up, then that’s what it takes. He had made numerous conciliatory gestures to the obstreperous hetman in the last several months, even if he’d rather have strangled the man.

  Culich summarized a reasoned argument for a central authority without proposing specifics.

  Hetman Orosz called for votes on the two proposals. Eighteen clans were voting. The result for Bevans’s enunciated proposal for clan independence was one for, eight against, and nine abstentions. Yozef restrained himself from a fist pump and a yell. Even most of the clans previously most opposed to a War Council—Vandinke, Seaborn, and Pawell—didn’t support complete clan independence.

  “The clan independence proposal is rejected,” announced Orosz. “The vote now is for a central authority. I note that no details were proposed, so the vote will be for the concept, which would have to be worked out. All in favor of a central authority, raise your hand.”

  Seven hands were raised.

  “All those opposed.”

  One hand. Nyvaks.

  Well, Jesus, Nyvaks! thought Yozef. You didn’t vote for independence, but you’re opposed to centralization! Was there another option I didn’t hear about?

  Yozef wasn’t the only person to question the Nyvaks hetman: Orosz scowled in the direction of the Nyvaks delegation before he announced the results.

  “Seven in favor, one opposed, ten abstentions. The proposal is rejected. Sers, this leaves us with a problem. As it stands, the War Council remains in force, because Hetman Keelan worded his proposal as a replacement with a central authority. Since there appears to be some support and no major resistance to the central authority concept, and no support to return to the previous state of total clan independence, I have a suggestion. What if we temporarily retain the War Council while reducing its authority so clans can return to more normal activities? Then, since there is support or at least neutrality for some form of centralized authority, let us continue discussions over the next months until we can come to a consensus on how to proceed.”

  Two hours of equable discussion followed, ending with a vote sixteen to zero, with two abstentions, to follow Orosz’s suggestion.

  He pulled it off, thought Yozef. Culich said that War Council members could maneuver the other hetmen into a gradual acceptance of giving up at least part of their independence, and the first step was to avoid major outright resistance. Now comes the part of figuring out what most of the clans will accept. Yozef wasn’t optimistic.

  The conclave broke for mid-day meal and reconvened two hours later.

  Once again, Orosz struck the ceremonial gong lightly. “Sers, the next issue is to determine the fate of the three clans controlled by the Narthani: Preddi, Selfcell, and Eywell. Hetman Stent has asked to speak on behalf of the Selfcell Clan.”

  Welman Stent moved to the front of the room. “As you all know, the Selfcell Clan inflicted harm to my people through raids along our common border during their alliance with the Narthani. As bitter as my personal feelings have been toward the Selfcellese, Roblyn Langor pointed out a hard truth to me. What was he to do once the rest of us refused to come to his aid when he asked for it?

  “We also have to consider that Selfcell revolted against the Narthani and hastened their Sellmor garrison to withdraw, thereby preventing our having to dig them out of Sellmor or leave the city as a Narthani base once the larger force arrived. Finally, when Harmon Swavebroke’s men worked to cut off Marshal Gullar’s supply line, the Selfcellese attacked the flank of a Narthani force threatening Swavebroke’s men. Their attack, though uncoordinated by the standards of the other clans, was ferocious enough to turn the tide, and General Istranik’s relief force withdrew back into Preddi Province.

  “Given all that I’ve said, I propose that the conclave accept Clan Selfcell back into the conclave.”

  Half the men in the room signaled approval verbally or by the stomping of feet: the other half were silent or voiced opposition. Orosz struck the gong twice.

  “Sers, silence, please. Those who might not agree with Hetman Stent should consider that if Clan Stent can forget the past, then who are the rest of us to naysay?”

  Before opposition expressed itself once more, Orosz turned to Stent. “Hetman Stent, are you asserting that Clan Stent forgoes any retribution or recompense for the actions of Clan Selfcell?”

  “I do so assert, Hetman Orosz.”

  Orosz called for a vote, then announced the result.

  “It being sixteen in favor of accepting Clan Selfcell into the conclave, with two abstentions, Clan Selfcell is once more part of the conclave. Summon the Selfcell delegation.”

  Tomis Orosz’s youngest son opened the door in the rear of the room and returned seconds later with six Selfcellese, led by Roblyn Langer, the Selfcell hetman.

  “Please be seated, Hetman Selfcell,” were Orosz’s only words. No other hetmen spoke. The six men sat in one of the three sets of chairs not occupied.

  “Next we come to Clan Eywell,” said Orosz. “Does any hetman wish to speak on their behalf?”

  At first, no hetmen moved to rise or speak. After nearly a minute, Feren Bakalacs spoke without rising. “Hetman Orosz, I believe I can speak for most of the clans. Eywell will never be accepted back. I call for the clan to be outcast.”

  Orosz had expected the Farkesh hetman’s statement and had reviewed records of the only previous clan expulsion a hundred years previously.

  “This is a serious step only taken once before since the Conclave of Nordwyn. Does any hetman object to a vote, or is there any clan wishing further discussion?”

  Silence. Again.

  “Then the vote is whether to outcast Clan Eyw
ell. Those in favor, hetmen, please stand.”

  Nineteen men rose.

  “By a nineteen to zero vote, Clan Eywell is outcast and will never again be part of a conclave or under the protection of the other clans.”

  There were no shouts of approval, but a firm sense of the necessity and righteousness of the decision roiled through the room.

  Yozef expected what would come next. Orosz let a minute pass, then moved on to the difficult part of the Eywell situation.

  “While Clan Eywell is no longer recognized and the name can never be used again, there is still the question of what to do with the former Eywellese—an estimated thirty-seven thousand living within the province. We will ignore, for the moment, the several thousand who fled into adjoining provinces as they sought shelter with relatives or friends.

  “In the only other instance of a clan being outcast, the Raslyn Clan population and land were absorbed by other clans. In anticipation of what the conclave would decide, I have consulted with leaders of Keelan, Moreland, and Selfcell, the clans adjacent to Eywell. None are interested in dividing up the Eywell population or land.”

  Orosz’s statement was mainly true. Several of the Moreland boyermen with borders on Eywell had pushed for land but not people. Welman Stent had hinted he might consider taking some of the population, as long as he got significant land. It took an acrimonious session of the War Council for Stent to withdraw its interest.

  “The question before the conclave, then, is what to do with the Eywell people and province,” continued Orosz.

  “The obvious solution is to reconstitute the clan under a new name and leadership,” said Feren Bakalacs.

  Red-faced, Harmon Swavebroke slammed a fist on a tabletop. “You can’t seriously expect us to accept a new hetman to come from the Eywell family, no matter how distantly related to Brandor Eywell!”

  “No,” said Bakalacs, “we can at least thank Brandor Eywell’s stupidity for getting himself, both his sons, and his three brothers killed at the Battle of Moreland City. As for more distant relatives, I agree that the entire Eywell family is out of the question. I would also go further and eliminate any Eywellese, including surviving boyermen. There would have to be a completely new leadership, one that we have absolute confidence in and that would command the clan with a firm hand.”