The Fireseed Wars Page 4

  “I know you’re under a lot of pressure, from me and from our subjects who all expect you to perform miracles. But drowning your problems in drink is not going to solve anything, only make them worse!”

  “I said: I don’t have a problem! No one else has mentioned my drinking.”

  “Of course not! They’re all afraid to. Afraid you might take offense and banish them! Or worse. Either that, or they’re like Sarrask or Halgoth, half-drunk themselves all the time.”

  “I don’t buy it, Rylla,” Kalvan said as he visibly reined in his temper. “Maybe I drink to excess once in a while, but it’s not a problem.”

  “It is, but you just don’t want to recognize it, my husband. If you keep it up, you’ll become like Gasphros. Remember him, the troubadour and how much of Ermut’s Best he drank? And remember how sick he got after the University dedication? How Brother Mytron had to lock him in a shed for a moon half before he was able to admit his problem?”

  Kalvan nodded. “Yes, Gasphros was turning into the University drunk ... But, Rylla, there’s no alcoholism in my family, and I’m not drinking the hard stuff--just wine and ale. Well, sometimes Ermut’s brandy ...”

  “Kalvan, answer me this: Had you been going down the staircase alone last night, would you have trusted your own footing?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so ... Maybe you’re right, Rylla. It’s possible I’ve been drinking too much lately. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “I know, my love. Remember our first night together after Harmakros’ son’s Name Day Celebration?’

  “Just barely...”

  “Well, I do. When you woke up, you wouldn’t look at me. When we touched--it was as if you’d found a serpent in our bed, until you recognized my face. What if I had been that horrible red-headed Grefftscharri woman from the Foundry? Sirna. May Dralm have mercy upon her spirit.”

  “Please, my head hurts enough without thinking of that nightmare!” Kalvan hung his head. “You’re right, maybe I have been drinking too much.”

  “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”

  Kalvan shook his head, as though to clear it. “I know it. It’s possible that I’ve been using alcohol as an escape. Maybe it is time to seriously cut down on my drinking.”

  “Praise Dralm! I know you carry the troubles of our kingdom on your shoulders, my husband, but there are better ways to lighten that burden.”

  “You’re right,” he sighed. “I’ve made too many mistakes--”

  “My husband, do not blame yourself for all our difficulties. Put the blame where it belongs--on Styphon’s House. If you drank to excess, it was because the Allfather placed more weight on your back than any mere mortal should bear ...”

  “Still, I made it easier for our enemies by drinking to avoid my troubles. Now, we have no home, nowhere to turn. I can no longer afford any weaknesses.”

  Rylla laughed softly. “Not even Allfather Dralm is that perfect! You are a mortal, as I should well know. But a good man, a strong man. You will do your best and so will I. If the gods will it, we shall prevail.”

  She took her husband in her arms and stroked his back.

  II

  Grand Master Soton was pacing back and forth before his impromptu desk, chuffing on his pipe, when he heard the clanging of armor and the slap of leather that signaled the arrival of someone important outside his headquarters. Moments later, Sergeant Sarmoth opened the tent flap. “Grand Master, sir. Knight Commander Aristocles asks your permission to enter?”

  “Permission granted, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Knight Commander Aristocles, second-in-command of the Zarthani Knights and acting commander during his absence from Tarr-Ceros, entered the tent. Soton had summoned Aristocles from Tarr-Ceros after Knight Commander Orocles took a gunshot wound in the calf during the siege of Tarr-Hostigos. Orocles’ leg had been amputated below the knee, when sepsis set in. Half-a-moon ago he’d recovered enough to be taken by litter to Ktemnos City where the Five Kingdom’s best healers would treat his wound. Aristocles, besides being his best Knight Commander, was also Soton’s closest friend; he almost felt guilty because he was so pleased to see him. They clasped arms below the shoulder.

  Aristocles was the first to speak. “It’s good to see you looking so well, Grand Master. Everyone I have met speaks well of Styphon’s Fist, the man who conquered the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos and destroyed the viper’s nest in Tarr-Hostigos!”

  Soton couldn’t help but grin. Styphon’s Fist? So that’s what they’re calling me now, hmm. When he was a young man, behind his back at the Order Academy, they had called him something entirely different--Styphon’s Pip-Squeak, because he was the smallest cadet in his class--but never to his face. Not twice, anyway. “It is good to see you again, old friend.”

  “Tell me all about this great victory. I’m sorry I missed it. Start at the beginning.”

  Soton went on to tell his friend how they had tricked Kalvan by spoofing his signal towers with false signals provided by the traitor Sthentros, a former Hostigi nobleman and now the new Prince of Hostigos. How they had out-maneuvered the Hostigi, forcing Kalvan to either fight at Ardros Field or face having all of Hostigos Investigated by Archpriest Roxthar, while Kalvan sat and puffed his pipe in Tarr-Hostigos. And how, after the Grand Host’s success at the Battle of Ardros, they had chased Kalvan’s army out of the capital and laid siege to his last citadel, Tarr-Hostigos.

  He went on to describe the siege and numerous attacks on the castle, ending with the Hostigi-created explosion that had leveled the old castle to its foundations. “Too many good men died over an old man’s folly, but one has to admire Prince Ptosphes’ courage and mettle.”

  “A good campaign and well ended, but why are you and the Grand Host still waiting outside Hostigos Town? I thought by now the Host would have reached the Sea of Aesklos and pushed the Usurper Kalvan into it.”

  Soton threw up his hands. “Politics! Now that we are a success everyone wants to rake off the coins on our offering plate. Roxthar wants the Host to dig out every Hostigi left in the entire False Kingdom, which includes every man, woman, child and stray cur. Not that there are many left; all the Hostigi who can still walk, limp or crawl have left Hos-Hostigos in mortal fear of the Investigation. And, for good reason; Hostigos Town is littered with Roxthar’s bloody leavings.” He spat on the floor.

  “A pox on this madman and his minions!” cried Knight Commander Aristocles.

  “Sadly, the Inner Circle views him as a necessary evil, until the Usurper is vanquished--at least.”

  “Is that why he’s attempting to keep the Grand Host hostage?” Aristocles asked. “Does Roxthar plan to keep Kalvan safe so he can use the Inner Circle’s fear of the Usurper to stoke the Investigation’s fire?”

  Soton paused, releasing a lungful of smoke. “You might have something there, if the Investigator was as involved in plots and machinations as Great King Lysandros and Archpriest Anaxthenes. However, Roxthar is consumed with a righteous fire that he believes to be sparked by Styphon. Outwardly, he seeks no personal gain for himself, other than demonstrating moral superiority and the right to bend to his will all those less committed to his reforms”

  “Roxthar is a man who inspires fear and a belief in demons in human form,” Aristocles spat.

  “Many Hostigi view him as such. Regardless, we still have to deal with his ardor.”

  “And the trail of dead bodies he leaves behind,” finished Aristocles.

  Soton put his pipe down and made to clear the air with his hands. “Fahhh! Enough of this talk; we have as much chance of changing Roxthar as we do of moving the moon from the sky. There are other political problems, too, starting with Great King Lysandros who believes it’s his destiny to command the Grand Host of Styphon.”

  “Lysandros! Has he been sucking on Herons peace pipe again? Or is he another Ormaz-cursed mad dog we have to deal with?”

  “No. He’s a cur of another color--this one is gre
en with envy of Captain-General Phidestros who’s gotten the panther’s share of glory for the conquest of Hos-Hostigos and the siege of Tarr-Hostigos.”

  Aristocles sucked in a big breath, then expelled it. “What? You were the one who commanded the troops at the Battle of Ardros Field, the one who laid out the siege and drove the Usurper out of his False Kingdom, so how does this upstart mercenary gain the credit?”

  “Again, politics,” Soton said, although he knew in his heart that Phidestros was in part responsible for the victory. Still, if the Inner Circle wanted to give him all the credit, who was he to protest? “If it hasn’t sunk in, old son, the people of the Northern Kingdoms despise Styphon’s House and anyone who is connected with it, be he priest, banker or soldier. The Order and the Inner Circle know whose hand was behind this victory; I don’t care one whit if the rabble give it to Phidestros the Upstart.”

  “Still, it must rankle.”

  “True, it pains me, but I am a man of reason, not some beast chained to his emotions--like Roxthar or Lysandros. Great King Lysandros believes he needs to destroy King Kalvan himself--cut off the Usurper’s head, by his own hand if possible, and bring it to his people. By doing thusly, he believes they will love him.

  “Now, Roxthar has joined the chorus behind King Lysandros, telling one and all that he is the right leader to co-command the Host.”

  Aristocles laughed. “Aha! The Investigator still harbors hatred for Phidestros because he humiliated him in the Gull’s Nest with some redheaded harlot.”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “On the Great King’s Highway, we were met by a group of wounded soldiers returning home who regaled us with stories of Phidestros’ heroism and how he was the only man in the Grand Host with the stones to spit into the Investigator’s eye. They then told us this tale about Phidestros’ bearding Roxthar that they, of course, in turn heard from someone else. Who knows if there’s any truth to it or if it’s a grog shop fantasy? By now it’s on its way to becoming legend.”

  “The story is true,” Soton said. “I talked to General Geblon and he told me the entire tale. He said the real story is that the girl was a wounded Hostigi healer who a farmer had brought into Hostigos Town and dropped off at the Gull’s Nest seeking a reward. He got a few phenigs for his efforts, you know whoremongers. The girl is called Sirna and she was taking care of the Iron Band’s wounded when Roxthar arrived unannounced and ordered her off the premises to be Investigated. The Captain-General all but threw Roxthar out the door--which was admirable. By Galzar, I’ve wanted to do it myself on several occasions.”

  “So has most of the Grand Host!” Aristocles hooted. “Truly, it is a feather in the mercenary’s cap.”

  “No doubt. And in his bed, as well--if rumors are to be believed; it appears the girl is now his mistress, as well as his healer. It has also cemented his bond with the common soldiers, who love their heroes larger than life, which in turn has inflamed Great King Lysandros’ envy and stopped the Grand Host in its tracks.”

  “I cannot believe all this nonsense. What’s happened to straight-out war? It used to be that you went into a disputed territory, won a few battles, conquered the land and then declared victory. Suddenly we have priests and kings arguing over every step we take. A pestilence on all their houses!”

  Soton nodded. “And there’s more to Lysandros’ sudden martial conversion than pure envy and frustration. Word is that his men captured a wounded Hostigi wainwright who was shot off of one of Kalvan’s treasure wagons.”

  “Treasure wagons?”

  “Before Kalvan departed from Hostigos Town, he loaded up every valuable, including most of the food and his treasury, and loaded it into his wagons. Several hundred to a thousand of these wagons--if you listen to all the grogshop talk in Hostigos Town--were filled to the gunwales with gold coins and ingots, silver of all description, jewels and all the portable tapestries and paintings in the capital.”

  “How much truth is behind these rumors?” Aristocles asked.

  “Enough. We know that Kalvan sacked scores of our temples and melted the gold leaf off their roofs and looted all the valuables they contained. He also confiscated the estates of our allies in those lands he conquered. He killed Balthar the Black and claimed his hoard. He also did a lively trade with the Agrysi in contraband fireseed and Ermut’s brandy, and sold a lot of older ordnance to Nestros, who calls himself Great King of Rathon. There were tens of thousands of large and small wagons, carts and carriages in Kalvan’s baggage, but I’d estimate that maybe three hundred to five hundred carried his Treasury--some three to five million rakmars of gold. I wouldn’t want to guess how much silver they took away.”

  “By Styphon’s Whiskers! That’s enough treasure to make even the Inner Circle Archpriests burn with envy. And you know how much gold there is in the Temple Treasury.”

  “True, but it’s also lit a bonfire under the breeches of our Great King Lysandros. Now, he’s under the impression that he can both be a great captain and win a treasure big enough to rebuild his Kingdom.”

  “It will not be easy to dissuade him from his folly,” Aristocles said, drawing deeply on his pipe and then releasing a small cloud of tobacco smoke.

  “I agree. I don’t know what I can do to clear up this mess since Styphon’s House has publicly acclaimed King Lysandros as Styphon’s Champion to the rest of the Five Kingdoms. Phidestros, for all his vainglory and other faults, is the proven captain of choice, but I don’t know if I can convince King Lysandros of this and make it stick. And, with Roxthar giving his blessing to Lysandros’ cause, I don’t have a lot of room to maneuver.”

  “Nothing has been the same since this Daemon Kalvan’s arrival.”

  “Right again, old son. But this is a new kind of war, a war of the gods rather than a war between men: Dralm against Styphon. With the Wargod in the middle. And anything goes, including treachery, burning towns and the wholesale butchery of civilians. I never thought I would live to see such ignoble times.”

  “Maybe we should find an excuse to return to Tarr-Ceros and leave the fools here to sort it all out.”

  “No, it is our duty to win this war for the God of Gods, as you yourself well know. We will fight this war until Kalvan is vanquished or we are dead. Now, speaking of home, were you able to bring any reinforcements with you, and what is the situation in the Sastragath and Sea of Grass?”

  Aristocles smiled. “Ever since Warlord Sargos left to ‘punish’ the Mexicotal, the Sea of Grass has been tranquil, which thus means the Sastragath has been more peaceful than any time in living memory. There hasn’t been a single battle since last year. Just the usual border thievery, murder and mischief. Therefore, I was able to bring four Lances of Knights to accompany me.”

  “Won’t that leave us vulnerable next spring?” With auxiliaries, Soton couldn’t help computing: four Lances would add another three to four thousand troops to the Host.

  “No. Since your great victory we have had thousands of new recruits to the Order, some from as far away as Hos-Zygros--even a few from the Middle Kingdoms.” Aristocles shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Many of them are veterans of the border wars.”

  Soton smiled. “Nothing beats success for recruiting. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a moon half. We can use more good troops; I expect we’ll be losing some men shortly.”

  “Do you think that Lysandros will remove the Harphaxi Army if he doesn’t get his way?” Aristocles asked.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. However, if he takes over Phidestros’ captaincy, I expect Phidestros will leave--taking with him all of his Beshtans.”

  Aristocles looked up. “Just the troops he has under his personal command, right? Two or three thousand Beshtans will hardly be noticed.”

  Soton took out his pipe and laughed. “I wish it were so. I don’t know if you heard or not, but the Grand Host--thanks to Roxthar’s Investigation-- was put under the Ban of Galzar.”

  “What! That
news hasn’t reached Ktemnos City yet. That’s terrible. What a blow to morale. How many troops did you lose?”

  “The troops don’t know of it, yet. It’s a big secret, although some of the mercenaries suspect and probably everyone else and their cats. To combat wholesale desertion among the mercenaries, we were forced to have them swear allegiance to Phidestros and Greater Beshta--”

  “By Yirtta’s Dugs, why would you elevate that miserable son-of-a-she-wolf?”

  “At the time of the Conclave of Galzar’s High Temple in Hos-Agrys, Beshta was one of Kalvan’s princedoms and therefore was not on the list of proscribed princedoms and territories named in the Ban. By swearing the mercenaries to Prince Phidestros, we stopped the wholesale desertion of the mercenary companies. Some of the captains were already preparing to bolt. You should have heard King Lysandros gnash his teeth when it was suggested by Captain-General Anaphon.”

  “Anaphon, I remember him. He was the general that Lysandros made head of the Harphaxi Army after Phidestros was raised to Grand Captain-General of the Host.”

  “Yes, and as Phidestros’ principal rival in the Harphaxi Army, we had to take Anaphon’s words seriously. It’s obvious there’s no love between the two. After much jawing, Lysandros and I agreed it was the only way to save the Host from losing most of its free companies. Phidestros lapped it up like a kitten drinking spilled cream!”

  Aristocles laughed. “Oh, I bet he did. How many arrows did he add to his quiver?”

  “The men of some eighty companies and bands. Roughly eight or nine thousand men. The men sworn to Greater Beshta now outnumber those sworn to his Great King!”

  “Now that’s a howl!”

  “Yes, but now if we lose him, we lose a lot of good soldiers, most of them veterans of the Fireseed Wars. And, who knows when we’ll have to fight them ourselves, since Phidestros’ loyalty to Styphon is as thin as a spider’s thread.”

  Aristocles tugged his beard. “Or as long as Prince Sarrask is still alive. He hasn’t left for Galzar’s Hall yet, has he?”

  “No, the Prince leads a charmed life; our outriders saw Sarrask’s bodyguard leave with Kalvan before the siege.”