by John F. Carr
So, my great friend, we are asking for your aid in solving our problem. It would bring an end to our temporary alliance with the Ruthani were we not to take care of these orphaned children. Yet they go unwanted--especially the elder children. Thus, I ask for a great boon from my friend, Great King Kalvan. I would like to send the children to Hos-Hostigos where they can learn from your people and yourself the new ways that we need to learn if we are to survive the upheavals that the Fireseed Wars have presented us and our world. I am hoping that you will teach these children much of your ways so that they may someday bring your people’s wisdom and teaching back to the Sastragath.
Please inform my good friend and councilor of your decision, and listen to his own offer, which may in time prove of great worth.
Your humble servant,
Ranjar Sargos
Warlord and Var-Wannax of the Tymannes and both Upper and Lower Sastragath
For a few moments, Kalvan wasn’t sure if he was being presented with a huge problem or a wonderful gift; a little bit of both, he finally decided. First, refusing this ‘offer’ would both cost him Sargos’ friendship and a major ally, with an army larger than both the hosts of Styphon and Hos-Hostigos--something he was not about to do! He was certain, just from knowing the man, that this ‘solution’ to his clan recruitment had cost Sargos a lot of face; he was not a man to ask a boon lightly, nor forget one given either.
Sadly, the Ruthani--the descendents of the Great Plains Indians-- would be no more welcome in Hos-Hostigos than they were in the Sastragath. However, Kalvan’s power base was far more secure than Sargos’ rule of the Sastragath, and Kalvan had the power to make his will be done. Still, he could not order the rank and file Hostigi to ‘adopt’ foundlings from the Sea of Grass, any more than Sargos could order his clansmen to do the same. Maybe he could set up some kind of orphanage for them. Unfortunately, the Royal Foundling home in Hostigos Town was already filled to bursting with the orphans from last year’s war.
He would have to come up with some kind of plan before the children arrived or there would be big problems. He was sure it was only Sargos’ kindness that had kept the Ruthani children alive this long.
Kalvan didn’t realize how long he’d been contemplating this problem until he drew on his pipe and realized it was dead. He looked up at Vanar Halgoth. “I apologize, but there is much to ponder in this letter.”
Halgoth nodded. “The Wannax is sorely vexed about what to do with the Grasseater cubs. If he treats them less than honorably, our alliance with High Chief Ulldar will go to Wind.” The Warchief paused as though reluctant to part with a great secret. “Sargos has a soft heart and would like to see the cubs safely out of the Sastragath where memories are long and vengeance is nursed along with mother’s milk.”
Kalvan nodded. “I fear they will find no great welcome from my people either. After several years of war, Hostigos has more than its share of widows and orphans. Yet, I have great respect for my friend Ranjar Sargos.”
Halgoth nodded as though this were only right. “He has repeated your words to me many times, King Kalvan. And, truth, in over forty winters I have never seen him so enamored of another man’s words.”
Kalvan had to repress a shudder. Which of my midnight drunken monologues will come back to haunt me next?
“It was your tales of how you had increased the Royal army by making your free companions into Hostigi citizens that gave him the idea to adopt the tribeless men, women and children into the Clan. Now--” Halgoth paused to open his arms in a huge circle. “--the Tymannes number more than all the other Urgothi clans in the Upper and Lower Sastragath. Truth be told, many warriors have left their true clans to join the Tymannes to partake of our good medicine and war glory.
“Wannax Sargos is much beholden to you, Your Majesty, for the success of this plan. In fact, he was loathe to lay this new burden at your feet and, had there been any other solution, he would not have done so.”
Kalvan took a deep drink of Ermut’s Best. “High King Sargos is a friend and ally; I am pleased that I have aided him in his plans to establish his suzerainty over the Sastragath. I will take these Ruthani children and make them wards of the Royal Throne--”
“Your Majesty! Sargos will be most pleased and thankful.”
“Tell him I will do it for our friendship and for the children. I will do my best to train them in our ways in all things.”
Halgoth turned slightly red and looked embarrassed, an emotion Kalvan was sure that crossed Halgoth’s countenance no more than once every few decades!
“Sargos would not tell this to his scribe, but he would also like to send with the Ruthani some of our own cubs so that they too will learn the ways of Great King Kalvan and Hostigos.”
Kalvan slapped the end table next to his chair. “It is done.” Sargos might not realize it, but he was putting the next generation of what would become the Sastragathi officer corps right into Kalvan’s hands.
“Thank you, King Kalvan, you have lifted a great burden from my head. It is rare that I ask any man for a boon, much less ask one for another.”
“I understand, Halgoth. You are a loyal friend and Sargos is lucky to have you guarding his back.”
Halgoth nodded, as though that were his due. “Now that my work is done, I have a request of my own.”
“Yes?” Kalvan asked guardedly. What favor might this great warrior ask next?
“When we met at the Spirit Grove and you saved my life, I became in your debt and it is time to settle the account.”
Kalvan nodded solemnly.
“I understand that Hostigos is in a great war with the Black Knights and the dung-digging priests of Styphon?”
“This is true.”
“Then you are in need of many warriors?”
“This is also true.”
Halgoth squirmed in his seat, looking strangely boyish for a man with sun-darkened skin and weathered wrinkles. “I would like to offer my services and those of the Raven Guard to act as your bodyguard.”
Kalvan thought quickly. Halgoth was a man of great honor and pride. He was also Sargos’ closest confidant and friend. To deny his request would not only dishonor Halgoth, but Sargos as well. Such an insult might well carry a blood price--or vergelt as the Urgothi called it. Kalvan couldn’t imagine how he might use such an honor guard of unrepentant Vikings-- but the Varangian Guard certainly did well for their Byzantine masters. Nor would it be a bad thing to have such formidable and loyal men as his personal guard. And, who knew how much evil would arise if he refused Vanar Halgoth’s request.
“It is done!”
A smile broke out on Halgoth’s face like the sun rising over a bank of purple clouds. “You have my oath of fealty.” He lifted his golden goblet. “A toast to Great King Kalvan and to the Raven Guard.”
Kalvan clinked goblets with the massive Urgothi. Another friend, he thought, I can use all the friends I can get. “Vanar, as your first duty, I want you to return to the Sastragath and bring the Ruthani children back to Hostigos.”
“It will be done. I must return anyway to gather the Raven Guard. Not all will be old comrades, since there are many new tribesmen in the Clan, but all will be proven warriors and loyal paladins. I will put them all under an oath-bond to fight to guard Your Majesty’s life with their own. You will not regret this day, my King!”
Kalvan wasn’t sure of that, but he knew better than to share his doubts with his new captain. He was going to have to put a truss on both his drinking hand and his mouth before he brought himself any more such good fortune!
FIVE
Captain-General Phidestros watched as the two Knights, in blackened armor and white capes with Styphon’s black sun-wheel emblazoned on the back, brought Grand Master Soton’s chair in and then waited at attention while the Grand Master strutted in and took his seat. Phidestros was surprised to note how much Soton had aged; there were sharp lines around his eyes and mouth, and his beard had turned mostly gray. He wondered what had
caused him the most pain, losing thousands of his beloved Knights or having to explain to the Inner Circle of Styphon’s House his ‘retreat’ from Kalvan’s army. Neither could have been easy, but knowing Soton as he did, he suspected the former.
“Grand Master Soton, can I offer you some winter wine?”
Soton excused one of his Knights, but the Sergeant stayed. “Yes, I could use a drink. I have spent far too many hours talking to nobles with more iron between their ears than in their spines.” He sounded weary and a little hoarse.
“We could always meet tomorrow, Grand Master.”
“No, I can only stay for a moon-quarter more, and then I have to return to Balph before the first big storms. We have much to discuss if the invasion of Hos-Hostigos is to be successful.”
“Agreed. Mynoss, will you serve us some wine.” After his servant had brought them all, including Sergeant Sarmoth, goblets of red winter wine, Phidestros made a toast. “To Styphon and the fall of the false Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos.”
After a long swallow, Soton offered up another toast. “And to Great King Lysandros!”
“To Great King Lysandros.”
“Unfortunately, that is about the only good news to come from the Sastragathi debacle.”
“That is hardly true, Grand Master. You drove the barbarians into the Trygath, threatening western Hostigos, which prevented Kalvan from invading Hos-Harphax, something he could have done with ease this spring. Instead he spent the campaign season chasing you.”
“I am glad to see you believe our sacrifice was not in vain.”
“I don’t just believe it. I know it, Grand Master. If you had not diverted Kalvan’s attention to the west, Hos-Harphax would be no more--and Harphax a princedom of Hos-Hostigos! If you still believe, as you did last year, that Hos-Harphax is the anchor of the Five Kingdoms, then your sacrifice was well made.”
“I hope you are right,” said Soton. “The entire campaign was a nightmare I’d just as soon forget. . .”
“We have made great progress here.”
“Tell me about it.”
“By Styphon’s Grace and much of his gold, I have completely rebuilt the Army of Hos-Harphax; it now musters over eighteen thousand men: two thousand Royal Pistoleers, eight hundred of the King’s Royal Lancers, four thousand Royal Foot Guard and four thousand Mobile Dragoons-- mounted infantry much like Kalvan’s Mobile Force, made up of the best of the City Militia--and a dozen mercenary regiments. I’ve recently hired another six thousand mercenaries, four thousand foot and two thousand horse; all have agreed to join the Royal Army--for a price. I’ve formed two mobile batteries of four six-pounders and six four-pounders each and one Royal Rifle Company with seventy-six riflemen.
“Excellent!--Captain-General. You have been busy. But how well trained are these troops?”
“Every third man in each company is a veteran, and we’ve been drilling them six days a moon-quarter since spring. They’re not seasoned yet, but they are in good spirits. I’m paying them twice the usual salary and year round--”
“So that was how you convinced the mercenaries to join the Royal Army.” Soton nodded thoughtfully. “Year round! I can hear Archpriest Dryton, the Temple’s Treasurer, screaming all the way from Balph.”
“No you won’t. I’m not paying them all in gold. Half their salary is paid in iron coin, redeemable in gold only when Kalvan’s army has been defeated.”
“Brilliant.” Soton shook his head as he took out a burl pipe with silver inlay. “By what spell do you convince soldiers to accept iron in place of gold?”
“All soldiers are gamblers and see nothing ahead but the piles of gold they will win when the Army of Hostigos has been vanquished. It has also given them a great incentive to work on their drills. Besides, many of the local merchants, ladies of the evening and wagerers accept the iron coins at a discount.”
“If that is true, truly you have brought about Styphon’s Own Miracle! Styphon be praised! If the local slatterns and sharpers are willing to take these iron rakmars in trade, then even the scum must believe that we will prevail. I wish the Archpriests of the Inner Circle shared their faith.”
“They will, Grand Master. They will. The City Militia is now more than ten thousand strong, and are better armed and better drilled than in living memory. Every moon I have a thousand of them brought to Tarr-Anibra where they are drilled from first light to dark. They do much better away from Tarr-Harphax and the City walls. They will not run as they did at Chothros Heights.”
“You have made great progress in the past year--even more than I expected. Yet, this shortage of mercenaries may yet prove our undoing. I had hoped you would have twelve to fifteen thousand Free Companions by this time, but far too many have died in this Ormaz-spawned war against the Usurper--or worse, have taken his colors. Archpriest Anax-thenes put before me an idea that may help solve our problem. Let me present it to you.”
Soton explained how Styphon’s House had merchants and agents who traveled as distantly as the far-off West Coast settlements of the Ros-Zarthani. One of these agents had been authorized by the Inner Circle to hire an entire army of Ros-Zarthani. Word had recently arrived in Balph that they were almost across the Sea of Grass.
“This is interesting news,” Phidestros said, his face trying to hide his disappointment. He needed these western barbarians like he needed another regiment of royal lancers. “How do we know they will not break the first time Kalvan’s guns fire?”
Soton shrugged. “They may be sounder troops than you suspect. The agent has informed Archpriest Anaxthenes that the Ros-Zarthani know neither kingdoms nor princedoms as we do. Each city acts as its own kingdom--yes, a chaotic system of rule that leads to much fighting. A highpriest was sent to ‘hire’ an army from one of the larger cities to aid in our war against the Usurper Kalvan. The army will march from their home, across the Sea of Grass and through Grefftscharr.”
“You mean some highpriest, who doesn’t know a rake from a ramrod, has hired an unknown army and believes it will pass unmolested through the Sea of Grass? The Grefftscharrers will pulverize it as grindstone mills wheat. Why not bypass Greffa all together, by taking the--”
“Fighting the Greffa Army will be their test, as I understand it. They have never faced fireseed, and it is well that they do so before they meet the Royal Army of Hos-Hostigos in the field. It will take Styphon’s Own Miracle for them to arrive as an intact unit. Yet, this Highpriest Prysos believes that these Ros-Zarthani can more than hold their own against the nomads and Grefftscharrers. At least he has convinced Archpriest Anaxthenes that this is so.”
“Anaxthenes may know all there is to be known about running temple services and pulling Sesklos’ strings, but he knows nothing of war.”
“Don’t underestimate Archpriest Anaxthenes. Any Archpriest who has survived for twenty winters in the Inner Circle has more understanding of command than you might think. There is even talk that he will become the next Voice of Styphon.”
Suddenly all is clear, Phidestros thought. Lysandros might believe the gathering host was his army, but Styphon’s House had a different opinion. “Since the Temple pays, we cannot lose. What weapons do they use?”
“They still fight in full armor and on destriers, much as our ancestors did and your Royal Lancers do now.”
“Oh no, more iron hats! Kalvan’s artillery will harvest them before they have time to set their lances.”
“Not all of them. Many use bows or carry heavy throwing darts.”
Phidestros shook his head. “Darts and bows! They will probably run when the first shot is fired.”
“If half of what this Prysos claims is true, they may surprise both you, me and--most importantly, Kalvan. At worst, they will serve as a screen for our own troops.”
“For how long has Styphon’s House purchased these soldiers?”
“Styphon’s House has paid their city well; they will fight until they are dead or their contract runs out next spring. Scoff if you must, but a
nswer me this: where else do you intend to find more mercenaries to fight under our banners?”
Phidestros shook his head. “There are no more mercenaries to be bought in the Five Kingdoms, not for gold or glory. No, bring these iron hats, and we will find some use for them--if they ever arrive! If nothing else, they will give Kalvan’s guns targets while my men do more serious work.”
II
Xentos still felt uncomfortable greeting supplicants in his Chair; it reminded him too much of the old Iron Throne he had seen during his visits to the court at Harphax City. The Primate’s Chair could just as well have been called the Golden Throne, since it was gilt covered and jewel-encrusted. In Xentos’ mind this pomp was more appropriate to a Styphon’s House temple than Allfather Dralm’s chief house of worship. Davros, Highpriest of the High Temple of Hos-Agrys, however, had an answer for every question, and Xentos supposed that the chair’s opulence lent a certain dignity to the High Temple. Yet, in his heart he still wasn’t convinced that such opulence was at all proper.
Xentos was tempted to turn around and ask the towering statue what it thought, but--unlike Styphon’s image in Balph--Dralm had never spoken to his flock. Xentos wasn’t even sure if it was proper to use the former Great Hall of Dralm for the Primate’s Audience Room. Again, Davros had convinced him otherwise. Or had his false pride allowed himself to be convinced? There was no comforting answer to that question so he focused upon the merchant asking his intercession with the Allfather.
“I admit, Patriarch, I bore false witness upon my competitors--even drove some of them out of business. Now the ague strikes almost every night. I awake shivering and lying in my own water. Please, ask Allfather Dralm to forgive me--I beseech you!”
The formerly obese merchant now swam in his robes. “Leave one hundred gold rakmars as an offering and I will intercede on your behalf.”