The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) (3 page)

Disgusted,
Yozef stood with Yawnfol and shook his head. “We’ll have to stick to two
barrels.”

“What
do we do with the two other carriages already built for three swivels?”

“It’s
too late to change those. We have seven barrels finished, so go ahead with two
more,” Yozef replied after a moment of thought. “Those nine swivels can finish
the three carriages already built. Further carriages will just have two
swivels. Make four of those, then go back to trying to figure out why we can’t
cast the 6-pounder barrels.”

It
wasn’t as if he had any more advice to give on casting. At this point, the
workers knew as much as he did.

Yozef
switched his attention to what the swivels would fire. He had envisioned 12-pounders
firing round shot at Narthani artillery batteries and canister at infantry.
Using the swivels as counterbattery fire was out of the question, since
whatever size and caliber the Narthani cannon, he couldn’t imagine them not
outranging the swivels. Against infantry, the swivels might have utility, but a
single swivel canister charge fired only thirty musket balls. Given that the
cone of balls coming out of the gun would result in many balls going over the
heads of any targets or into the ground, only ten balls might actually hit
infantry formations. Yozef had Yawnfol try balls smaller than the standard
musket size. They would have less range and impact but more projectiles. He settled
on a powder charge and a ball size that allowed eighty balls in a 2-inch bore
canister round. The resulting weapon had a shorter effective range than Yozef
had planned and penetrated less, but it was a compromise.

For
maximum firing rates, the powder charges and the canister had to be pre-made.
The first designs on Earth used cloth bags for the charge. The bag was rammed
in, followed by the round shot. For canister, a container with the projectiles
followed the charge bag, the container made of cloth, wood, or metal, depending
on the type of shot and the level of technology. Wooden or metal cylinders were
more efficient, but Yozef didn’t want to wait for the development of cylinder
production and settled on heavy cloth bags for both canister and grapeshot.

To
produce the bags, Yozef thought of Buna Keller’s clothing shop and her
seamstresses. He had had a brief affair with Buna a few months earlier, broken
off by her, to his relief, because she considered him too different from
Caedelli men. For the task of making cannon power and shot bags, she was
perfect—hard working, meticulous, and venal. She’d do it, if paid well.

With
everything assembled, the finished product might have looked pathetic to Yozef,
although the Caedelli were suitably impressed with the results at the nearby test
range. Ten man-sized straw dummies were placed at one hundred yards and covered
with paper on the side facing the cannon to count canister hits. The dummies represented
the distance covered by a line of fifty infantry standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Their three complete triple swivel carriages fired an initial salvo of 720 canister
balls. All ten dummies showed at least one hit—most had three or more.

During
the next sixday, they ran a series of test firings to determine effective
ranges and optimal charges. A hundred and fifty yards seemed the maximum range
to get enough hits to be effective, and they adjusted the charges to allow the
musket balls to penetrate thick leather, simulating leather protection that Preddi
escapees reported was worn by Narthani soldiers.

With
a supply of ammunition on hand, they worked out a firing cycle. The powder bag
was shoved into the open end of the barrel and rammed home with a wooden dowel,
followed by the canister bag and a second application of the dowel. The
carriage was faced toward the target, the barrels’ elevations adjusted by
screws, and gunpowder from a powder horn tapped into the firing vents.  A thin
wooden rod was used to ignite the powder in the vent; its end was kept glowing
in an ember chamber carried by one of the crew. The barrels were fired
sequentially and the carriage quickly repositioned after each recoil. After
firing, a rod with a wet cloth on the end was run down each bore to quench any
embers, preparing the barrels for the next firing cycle.

As
soon as the first triple-gunned carriage was ready, Denes selected eight men as
potential gun crew leaders. While trials had shown that a six-man crew was the
minimum necessary for an optimal rate of firing, Yozef insisted on an eight-man
crew. He didn’t elaborate that in battles, inevitable casualties meant crews
needed enough men to ensure the guns were manned and fired as long as possible.

The
original eight men drilled for days until they could operate the guns blindfolded
and fire the outer barrels every thirty seconds. Denes appointed the original eight
men as gun crew leaders and they, in turn, trained other men, half from the
Abersford area and the other half brought in from Clengoth. Within another two sixdays,
eighty gun crewmembers were trained, hopefully well enough not kill to themselves
or others on their side, if forced into a battle.

Gunpowder

Successful
development of the swivel gun carriages led to unanticipated discoveries, as
Yozef had found with many projects. This time, it was Denes who broke the news
after witnessing another test firing.

“I
can see how these ‘swivel’ guns, as you call them, might be useful in some
circumstances, but they must use a lot of gunpowder, which is in short supply.”

“Short—!”
Yozef turned to Denes with dumbfounded look. “I guess I hadn’t thought where
the gunpowder is coming from. Yawnfol! Come here.”

The
young foundry supervisor trotted over. “Yes, Yozef, a good test. Every Narthani
dummy was hit at least once.”

“Yawnfol,
where do you get the gunpowder for the tests?”

“Oh,
yes, that’s been a problem. We ask around for anyone willing to part with a few
spoonfuls, and traders as far as Hewell Province know to look for any sources.
The cost is more coin than we expected, but you told us not to worry about
that.”

“Well,
Jesus Christ! Can’t anything go easy?” a red-faced Yozef yelled.

Denes
and Yawnfol both stepped back, startled, neither man knowing what Yozef said, because
he’d used English, and they’d never witnessed such a display from him.

Yozef
stomped away forty feet and stared at the eastern peaks, fuming to himself.
I’ve
got to stay sharper. I’m getting too involved in the details of my brilliant
ideas and ignoring obvious issues. With the cannon, first I was oblivious to
the loading problem with three barrels, and I’m just now learning about the
gunpowder shortage. Such mistakes will get me or others killed.

With
a cooler head, he walked back to the puzzled Denes and Yawnfol, hearing the
former tell the latter, “Don’t worry, he’s not mad at you, he’s just Yozef
Kolsko and acts odd at times.”

“I’m
sorry, I was only surprised to hear we’re short of gunpowder. Isn’t it made
here on Caedellium?”

“Of
course,” said Denes, “many know how to make it. It’s just that the crystal
ingredient is scarce. No one likes to dig around voiding pits or animal manure
piles, and even that source is becoming harder find. Much of the gunpowder was
imported by traders to Preddi City until the Narthani took control.”

Potassium
nitrate. Those were the crystals Denes referred to. The other two ingredients,
carbon and sulfur, were easier to find, but the islanders didn’t seem to know
about mineral deposits or guano. Here was where Yozef’s fertilizer project would
pay off.

He
had discovered deep guano deposits covering the cliffs of an inlet and offshore
rock formations a two-hour hike west of Abersford along the unpopulated coast
toward Gwillamer Province. Although the islanders used manure as fertilizer, the
use of guano had been unknown. Cadwulf had been correctly dubious that Keelan
farmers would be interested, because they already had trouble selling excess
crops now that the Narthani had blocked off island trade. However, Yozef
persisted, asserting that the time would come for increased yields, either for
restarted trade or unforeseen needs for food.

What
he hadn’t told Cadwulf or anyone else was that guano was a source of potassium
nitrate and sodium nitrate, both of which could be used to make black powder.
He had kept that use in the back of his mind and now used it to salve his
self-castigation.

“I
think we can solve the gunpowder shortage problem. I believe I know how to
prepare a substance to replace the crystals.”

“How
would you—” blurted Yawnfol, before Denes elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“If
Yozef says he knows how, it’s best to just stand back and watch what happens.
His ideas don’t always work, but enough do to reserve judgment.”

“All
right,” said the Preddi worker, rubbing the impact point. “No reason to beat on
me.”

Yozef
had ignored the interchange. Lost in thought, he spoke aloud. “Let’s see,
charcoal’s the easy ingredient, and the people here know of sulfur, so there
must be deposits. Nitrates are the limiting factor. They’re the main component
of gunpowder and provide rapid oxidation for the reaction. Here come my guano
deposits at Birdshit Bay.”

The
aforementioned locale was descriptive of large guano deposits from Anyarian
murvors, the local flying creatures filling the niche of terrestrial birds. After
he had stumbled on these guano deposits, he had registered ownership of the
area. Tests of the guano as fertilizer and elementary chemical tests had
confirmed high levels of nitrates, in both the sodium and the potassium forms.
Both could be used to make gunpowder, although the sodium version absorbed
moisture, and the resulting gunpowder needed to be used within weeks or
stabilized by coating the gunpowder grains with graphite, a natural mineral he
knew existed on the island, because it was commonly used as a lubricant on
wheel axles.

“I’ll
need to get a staff to work on this,” Yozef continued in a mix of English and
Caedelli, the meaning equally obscure to the two listeners. “Probably
apothecaries or their apprentices. They’re used to mixing stuff and weighing
specific amounts. I can give them clues on how to purify nitrates from the
guano and convert the sodium form to potassium, if necessary. I don’t know the
exact composition of the guano, so they’ll have to experiment with various
precipitations and leachings.”

Part
of his mind knew he was rambling, but the free flow continued, with Denes
bemused and Yawnfol confused.

“Is
he talking to us?” queried the Preddi worker.

“No.
To himself. I think. Although . . . ” Denes didn’t continue, having given no
credence to rumors of Yozef communicating with the unseen. While the militiaman
wasn’t religious, one could never be sure.

“Once
we have the gunpowder source licked, we can experiment with rockets, grenades,
mines, and who knows what else?” Yozef’s voice radiated excitement.

Within
two sixdays, one more shop was added to Yozef’s cluster. The gunpowder facility
was located several hundred yards distant from the others and within a circle
of large boulders, supplemented with masonry walls in gaps. If the experiments
went well, he figured to set up a larger production facility far enough distant
that a catastrophic accident would be confined to a single facility.

Yozef
hired four apprentices, two from Caernford and two from a Hewell Province abbey
whose scholasticum specialized in apothecary knowledge. Yozef wrote out
everything he could remember about gunpowder production, provided the staff
with connections to sources of materials, drilled them to distraction on
safety, and turned them loose. Two months later, after one rebuilding of the
shop structure, several minor burns, one broken arm, one worker replaced when
he decided the work was too dangerous, and only occasional peeks on progress by
Yozef, the shop produced the first functional gunpowder using murvor guano as
the nitrate source.

Yozef
put aside dreams of rockets, grenades, and mines when he decided that more
development of fuses was needed before handing such products to the islanders.
He ordered a larger facility built a mile from Abersford and focused on
gunpowder for muskets and cannon; then he moved on to his second objective in
being better prepared for the Narthani: himself.

Life
in Abersford and St. Sidryn’s returned to a semblance of normal, yet
only
a semblance. Tradesman worked in their shops, farmers farmed, mothers mothered,
and smithies smithed. Yet confidence in what was normal didn’t recover. Faces
were sterner, arguments erupted faster, Godsday services were more heavily
attended, and the three pubs in Abersford did a booming business.

Another
difference in daily life was that most men and some women now bore one or more
weapons. They could have gone armed before the raid, but there had been no
sense of imminent danger. No longer. The people felt safer having a weapon at
hand, although the comfort was tempered by not forgetting why they carried a pistol,
a sword, or a knife.

Another
change was increased formal martial training. The existing three Thirds, the local
levy of fighting men, expanded to add farmers and miners farther distant than
before and required them to take part in training and minimal drills. In
addition, the population of the Abersford area continued to grow to fill
Yozef’s need for workers. Eighty men now composed each Third, compared to the previous
fifty. Also organized was a reserve militia of younger and older men, plus
weapons training for able women, the latter eliciting controversy among some
men until the majority of women made it clear they, too, were defenders of family
and clan.

Neither
was Yozef immune from a changed attitude. He understood that luck had carried
him through the courtyard fight with only the leg scar. If he’d faced one of
the Buldorians by himself for even a few seconds, he would have died in the courtyard.
Yozef had helped protect Carnigan’s flank, yet he was only slightly more
effective than bales of hay.

This
wasn’t Berkeley or San Diego, his previous home and where he grew up,
respectively. It was hard enough accepting what had happened and finding a new
life, but more was needed. While he prayed that the raid was the last real
fight he would experience, he needed to be better prepared for even an elementary
defense of himself.

On
yet another morning he woke to the nightmares and cold sweat dampening the bed,
as he remembered those abbey courtyard minutes that had seemed to last hours: the
yells, the screams, the firearms, the whistling of musket and pistol balls
passing nearby, the clash of metal, the “sssst” of blades swinging and missing,
and, worse, the sound of blades meeting flesh.

He
got out bed naked and looked at himself in a mirror, not for the first time. The
man in the mirror only
resembled
Joseph Colsco. In his previous life, he
had never been an active person and had told himself muscles weren’t needed in
a tech society. Then, his only concern was keeping an eye on an incipient pot
belly. That wasn’t who looked back at him now. This body had clearly defined
musculature. He made the classic poise to display biceps. The knotted muscle
existed where it hadn’t on Earth. Harlie had said that the changes the Watchers
made to him would help compensate for Anyar’s higher gravity. Was that what he
saw?

He
looked harder at the face in the mirror, by now accustomed to seeing and caring
for the beard, but the color had changed. His mousy light brown hair had turned
a darker brown in the first months on Anyar, the original shade existing only
in a few lighter streaks.

He
kept staring. Hair, beard, physique. This wasn’t who he had been, it was who he
was
. He needed to discard lingering past images.

Standing
there in the early morning, with light coming through the windows, he decided to
survive on Anyar to as old an age as possible, and to pass on as much knowledge
as he could, he needed be better physically prepared, both in body and in minimal
weapons training.

The
first objective was the easiest. On Caedellium, physical condition counted more
than it did on Earth. He needed to be as fit as he could make himself,
including both basic strength and endurance, the latter having the additional
benefit of being able to run away farther and faster.

Setting
up a “weight room” contributed to the wild stories circulating about Yozef
Kolsko. 

“You
want what?” asked a puzzled Brak Faughn.

“A
room about fifteen-feet square added to the house off my bedroom. It should
connect to the bedroom and have a door to the outside.”

“That’s
easy ’nough, but why do you need another room?”

Yozef
had prepared an answer for this expected question. “My people believe that to
remain healthy, especially men, the body needs to be used and used vigorously.
Most people get this through their everyday work.”

Brak
nodded approvingly. “Yes, the
Word
sez God blesses those who toil by the
sweat of their brow.”

“Very
true,” said Yozef. “As you know, I spend most of my days meeting with workers and
overseeing shops and seldom do hard work. Since it is impractical for me to
spend enough hours at honest hard work to stay healthy, the only solution is to
spend shorter times in vigorous activity. By spending a few minutes several
times a sixday lifting heavy weights by methods my people have developed, I can
maintain better health and come closer to what the
Word
says.”

Brak
looked dubious. “I guess I cun see it, but I never heard of it here on
Caedellium. Sum of the shopkeepers in Abersford could use doin’ the same.”

“The
weights will help, but, of course, I won’t sweat as much as if I was working in
a field or a smithy. So, to let myself sweat more and to help strengthen my
heart, I’ll also run occasionally.”

“Run?
Run where?”

“Oh,
just around here. Maybe to the village or the abbey and back. Maybe out to the
beach.”

“Everyone
gonna think you’ve gon’ mad. That or there’s somethin’ wrong. Like another
raid.”

“They’ll
get used to it. If anyone asks you about me, you can explain why I’m doing it.”

The
cannon foundry made the weights, to the similar confusion of the workers there and
with the same explanations as he gave Brak. However, because it was “Yozef
acting strange,” to which they had all become accustomed, the rationale passed
with a shrug.

By
necessity, the running placed Yozef in full view of any citizen along his route
of the day. The initial stares and the guarded behavior soon devolved into
cheerful acceptance of one more of his eccentricities.

Using
Weapons

Arranging
for weapons training took less explanation, the ability to defend oneself and
others being taken for granted. Never having touched a firearm before—and hundreds
of hours at
Call of Duty
and other video games didn’t qualify—made
familiarity a priority. Instruction from Filtin Fuller, his worker and friend,
provided enough basics to continue practicing with flintlock muskets and pistols
on his own, and Yozef soon decided it was fun.

Not
so with blade weapons. Merely looking at the edges of swords, axes, spears, and
everything else that could be put to such use made him queasy. But
needs
ruled. He
needed
to have a remote chance of survival should occasion
arise where familiarity was critical.

Again,
he required an instructor. Cadwulf was out, because he was too young, and Yozef
couldn’t imagine him being experienced at dicing someone. Carnigan was out as
an instructor, since his fighting ability was tied to his prodigious strength.
However, Denes provided a lead when Yozef explained what he wanted and pointed
him to Wyfor Kales, a scrawny, fiftyish man of Yozef’s height, missing a few
teeth, bearing several prominent scars, and with a mean look to his eyes. Kales
was one of the few islanders to have spent time off the island, including nearly
twenty years of employment, the details of which no one knew.

“Trust
me, Yozef. If you want to learn about blades, Kales is your man.”

Denes
was right.

Carnigan
directed Yozef to Kales one evening in the Snarling Graeko.

“Hello,
Ser Kales. We’ve never met before. I’m Yozef Kolsko.”

“As
if anyone ’round here doesn’t know who you are,” deadpanned Kales.

“Yes,
well, Denes Vegga recommended you.”

“Vegga,
huh. He’s not bad,” Kales said grudgingly. “And why would he point you to me?”

“I’m
not from Caedellium, and in my homeland I never learned to use weapons,
particularly blades. You know . . . swords, spears, whatever. The recent raid
showed me I need to learn enough to have a chance to defend myself and others.
When I asked Denes who he would recommend instructing me, he suggested you.”

Kales
stared at Yozef with a blank face.  A minute passed. Yozef could feel a sheen
of sweat forming on his forehead.

Had
he insulted this Kales or something? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I
can pay you quite well for any instruction,” Yozef blurted.

Kales’s
mouth pinched at the corners, Yozef couldn’t tell whether from anger or humor.

“Vegga.
He’s all right. On the other hand, they say you’re
very
odd, but it’s
been a more interesting place to live since you arrived. As for the raid, too
bad I wasn’t here, instead of in Clengoth. I coulda taken care of myself, but I
have family here, brothers and their kids. People say you helped beat off those
Buldorian shitheads, plus my brother Elrin tells me your medicines saved his
wife. So I’ll teach you the fundamentals, enough to keep you alive for a few seconds,
if you find yourself facing an average man.”

Yozef
exhaled.

I
guess that means he’s not going kill me outright for some insult or intrusion.
And a few seconds? Well, that’s something. Sometimes you only need a few
seconds to find a place to run to.

“You
won’t need to pay me. I got plenty a coin. An hour a day, three days a sixday.
Just before midday meal. I’ll set the days. You either come those days, or we
forget it. We start tomorrow.”

With
those words, Kales picked up his stein of beer and walked to a table with
several men playing an Anyar card game. Yozef stood and watched him walk away.

Okay,
so social
graces
aren’t
his strong point,
but
I
hope
his fighting instruction
is
.

It
was.

Thus
began instruction on the mayhem that could be done with anything sharp. Kales
seldom had a friendly word, being matter-of-fact in the means and consequences
of the violent application of sharp instruments to a human body. During the
raid, Yozef had clumsily stuck a Buldorian with his spear, but in the turmoil
and his fear, he didn’t recollect details. Kales corrected this oversight. At
the third session, Kales had several burlap bags of wet sand and had Yozef
practice stabbing with knives of various designs and size.

“It
gives a good first impression of what it feels like to run a blade into
someone. The wet sand has about the same resistance to a blade as a man’s
body,” Kales explained in a tone Yozef might have used to clarify a law of
chemistry—cool, objective, and authoritative.

Yozef
didn’t have the nerve to ask how Kales knew the feeling of sticking a knife
into a human body.

A
month later, when Yozef arrived for his session, Kales had a live yearling
calf. At first, Yozef was afraid Kales expected him to kill it, but Kales cut
its throat and hung it in a tree to let Yozef get the look and feel for driving
a knife and a sword into a flesh-and-blood body.

The
training was intense, and Kales had no compunction against inflicting pain when
they sparred with wooden copies, each hour leaving Yozef with a collection of
bruises from stabs and slashes. He was surprised at the complexity of using a
spear, as Kales disillusioned Yozef’s preconceptions in the first session.
Swords were even more difficult. It took only seconds for Kales to either
disarm Yozef or make a touch that would have been fatal with real weapons.

“Don’t
be discouraged,” Kales said, after noting Yozef’s frustration. “You’re not
likely to get in a sword fight with anyone as good as me. If you can get so you
can survive ten seconds of my attacking, you’ll be good enough to defeat almost
anyone.”

Yozef
didn’t know whether Wyfor was bragging but applied himself diligently,
accepting the bruises. Then one day Kales broke off his attack, stepped back,
and smiled—a rarity.

“Nicely
done, Yozef. You’ve done better than I expected. I told you the goal was to
last ten seconds, and you just doubled that.”

It
was with knives where Yozef exceeded both of their expectations. To Kales,
“knives” meant two men with knives using those plus every part of their bodies.
Yozef’s familiarity with the concepts of martial arts from movies and TV, even
if with no direct personal experience, meant Kales didn’t have to explain why
fists, elbows, foreheads, knees, and feet were important in a knife fight. In
the sparring, Yozef’s bigger size and increasing strength helped compensate for
Kales’s speed and experience. That Yozef still lost every mock knife fight was
balanced by Kales needing more than a minute to win and coming away with
bruises of his own.