The Anyar sun was still high enough in the clear sky for Yozef to estimate he had five to six hours of daylight left. Based on his partial tour of the town and some directions given by the registrar clerk, he visited shops and bought a backpack, several vials of red and blue ink, some bread and cheese, two comfortable pairs of shoes for everyday wear, and a flagon of wine. He packed it all and headed back to Abersford, walking. The wagon was going back the next day, but he didn’t want to wait. He looked forward to the walk back, so he could see the countryside from a level, non-bouncing position. His rear appreciated the plan.
The fifteen miles took him six hours. By the time he got home, the last light had faded, travel complaints had long ago shifted from his butt to his feet, and the bread, the cheese, and the wine were only memories.
Chapter 25: Ignition
Musfar Adalan chafed while waiting for word from his cousin Adel, who’d led the men ashore on their first mainland Caedellium raid. He understood that his place was to remain with the seven ships anchoring offshore. The first raid had been an exception, but his days of always leading from the front were over. His responsibility was to keep control of the ships and respond if the raid went badly. He didn’t doubt his men understood this, though the emotional part of him wanted to be ashore, leading his men, as when he was younger.
Their first raid on the fishing village on the archipelago of small islands making up the Seaborn Province to the northwest of Caedellium had gone smoothly, but this was different. Seaborn was isolated, sparsely populated, and unsuspecting. This time, the target was an abbey complex in Pewitt Province, less than a hundred sea miles from Seaborn. There was always the chance that word of the Seaborn raid had reached the main island, and his men would walk into prepared defenses. Pewitt was also more populated, meaning help could come faster if they were warned.
The Narthani had been their usual annoying selves, making arrogant assurances their information about the Pewitt abbey was accurate. Musfar knew they were sincere and respected the competence of the Narthani pigs, but sending men ashore was nothing to take lightly, especially since most of the men were from his own clan. Many were blood relatives, one of whom Musfar could see in the longboat, rowing back from the shore. Kiltar Adalan was his eighteen-year-old nephew, the son of one of his many younger brothers. This was Kiltar’s first action, and he served as Adel’s aide and runner, meaning the youth would be bringing word on the progress of the raid.
The longboat rowers stowed their oars and secured the boat against the ship’s hull. Kiltar raced up the rope ladder as only an eighteen-year-old could, and Musfar smiled at the memories of when he could do the same.
“Uncle . . . er . . . Captain,” stumbled Kiltar, “I’m to report the raid went off as planned. The abbey is ours, and the raiding party is finishing looting and setting the abbey afire. Sub-Captain Adalan says it will take several boat trips to move everything to the ships.”
While Musfar welcomed the oral report, he already knew the raid had gone well. The boat delivering Kiltar and Adel’s message was piled with sacks and boxes he assumed were plunder, and crewmen busied lifting a dozen bound Caedelli aboard ship. Eight were young women and the rest children between three and seven years. All would be slaves, either kept by officers as part of their shares or sent to slave markets. None would ever set foot on their home soil again.
“Casualties?” asked Musfar.
“Three dead,” Kiltar reported, “and seven wounded, one severe. Sub-Captain Adalan says they will be on the next boat out.”
“Good report, Kiltar.” Musfar slapped his nephew on the back. “Get your boat unloaded and back to the shore with you. Tell Sub-Captain Adalan I’ll move around the cape and closer to shore to speed up the transfers. Off with you now.”
Kiltar vanished over the side, shouting at the crewman to hurry with unloading.
The boy was full of himself now and bursting with energy, but he’d learn it wouldn’t always be this easy. Adel would look after him until he had enough experience to keep a clear head.
Musfar turned to a signalman standing nearby. “Host signal flags for all ships to follow us.” The raiding party had put ashore two miles around a rocky cape hiding the ships, while men moved overland to surprise the abbey. Concealment was no longer necessary.
He next turned to a senior sailor in charge of cargo. “Get the prisoners secure in the lower hold, and remind the men to leave the women alone for now. There’ll be time for them later when we’re loaded and heading back to Preddi waters.” Women destined for the slave markets would bring higher prices if pregnant, and during the voyage home, the ships’ crews would do their best to bring about that condition.
Well, well, Musfar mused to himself. The Narthani information was good, again. Maybe this is all going to work out as well as I hoped. Whatever the Narthani plans for Caedellium, he needed to sail in their wake until it was time to leave. Of course, that was the problem—when to leave.
Culich pulled out a paper leaf with a neat outline prepared by Maera. “Major item today is the reports of attacks on Caedellium coasts. So far, we know a Seaborn village and a Pewitt abbey were sacked by seagoing raiders. There’s no confirmation, though evidence points to Buldorians. They come in on five to ten ships, land several hundred men, loot the village, abbey, or both, and take prisoners—usually women and children—undoubtedly to be sold as slaves. They then burn everything they can and are gone before help can arrive. St. Bodwydell’s Abbey in Pewitt was burned to the ground, along with the scholasticum and library, and all brothers and sisters killed, as well as several hundred villagers who initially tried to fight and then surrendered.”
Cries of shock and anger rose from the Keelan boyermen before Culich was halfway through the report.
“There have also been sightings of Eywellese and Selfcellese encroaching into Stent and Moreland Provinces, and similar reports from our Dornfeld district bordering Eywell. Sometimes it’s only a few men, but one incursion involved several hundred Eywellese into Moreland. As soon as trespassers are discovered and locals gather, they ride back to their own provinces. So far, there’s been no major fighting, although several small skirmishes happened in Moreland.
“There are also unconfirmed reports of small numbers of unknown men spotted in the ridges above the Dillagon pass.” The pass led from the main part of Keelan through the Blythrim Mountains to the Dornfeld district on the shore of the Gulf of Witlow and opposite Preddi Province across the gulf.
“How about the Narthani?” asked the Yorm district boyerman.
“Nothing so far,” said Vortig Luwis, Culich’s military advisor, if the clan had had such a title, “but does anyone think the Eywellese and the Selfcellese would be doing this without the knowledge of the Narthani?”
“Luwis is right,” said Culich. “This is all but certain under the Narthani.”
“And similar with the seaborne raids,” said Luwis. “As with the land incursions, it has to be with Narthani knowledge and planning. The Buldorians wouldn’t dare dip their toes into what the Narthani consider their waters unless the Narthani approved.”
“And worse,” said Culich, “the Narthani may think their control of Selfcell and Eywell is firm enough that this is the first step toward other provinces.”