by John F. Carr
“He’s not that smart! Look inside the outer wall in the middle of that mob. I thought I saw a rider there a moment ago.”
“I don’t see anyone on horseback, now. It looks like a bunch of ants devouring a honeycomb! What do you think?”
“For fifty thousand ounces of gold, nothing would surprise me. If they leave enough of Lysandros to identify, I suspect I’ll be paying out fifty thousand rakmars today.”
“Dralm-damnit, if you aren’t right!” Kyblannos exclaimed. “Not a shot fired and their army in tatters. I had more faith in the regicide. That’s a gold Crown I owe you.”
Phidestros smiled wryly. “Not much joy in making war on that lot of scarecrows and bindlestiffs. I’m just glad we didn’t have to fight them; it would have been embarrassing.”
“Not so good for your legend, either, cap’n!” Kyblannos snickered.
“Enough, old son. We’d have had to kill a lot of good men that I once commanded. I pray to Galzar Wolfshead that it’s Lysandros they’re tearing apart; he led his army straight into Regwarn, which is exactly what Hos-Hostigos has become. The poor fools.”
“What are we going to do with that lot, Captain? I see at least ten thousand men, or what used to pass for them. If we send them on to Harphax City to join up with the Great King-Elect, he may start getting the idea that he’s calling the shots.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Phidestros said, stroking his beard. “Let’s take about half of the army, the better half, of course. We’ll muster them into the militia and give them land in our new holdings in Beshta and Sask. We may need them later.”
“Good thinking.” Kyblannos paused to study the former Foundry with his farseer. “Whatever it was that drew them to the old Foundry, they’re done with it now. The whole body of them are coming down into the valley.”
“Good. I want you to take our petty-captains and have them sift through the remains of the Harphaxi Army and sort them out man by man. We’ll take the pick of the litter, and send the rest—after we fatten them up—on to Harphax City. Let Selestros do with them as he pleases, but he won’t get our help in rebuilding his Army.”
Kyblannos spit on the ground. “I don’t trust that philanderer any time he’s out of pistol range.”
“Me, neither; nor do I trust Selestros’ ‘miracle rebirth,’ as he calls it. Although, I haven’t seen him touch a drop of wine or beer; and for that reprobate—that’s as close to a miracle as I’ve seen in the Five Kingdoms!”
“Aye, you’ve got something there, Cap’n. Our agents tell me he hasn’t smuggled a woman into his chambers since he’s been reformed. I don’t understand it.”
Phidestros shook his head. “Neither do I, but I don’t trust him, either. Let’s head down to the pass; I want to get there in time to receive Lysandros’ head.”
“What are we going to do with it?”
“Pickle it in brine, for now. Later, I’ll take it as a gift to Great King-Elect Selestros. Then he can call the Electors together for a new Election.”
Kyblannos shook his head. “By Styphon’s Brass Ballocks, since Sask is your reward for defeating Lysandros, you’ll be one of the Prince Electors. Before this Election is over, I’m sure Selestros’ll regret making you one of the Electors.”
“It was part of our deal. And don’t forget Geblon is now Prince of Harphax and another Elector. Hos-Harphax lost five Electors when the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos was declared. It was Lysandros’ duty to replace them, but he wasn’t about to elevate those princedoms to Electoral status where the princes were members of the League of Dralm. To elevate them might have cost him Styphon’s House’s support; in addition, he didn’t trust them. Seeing how quickly they’ve thrown their support behind Selestros, I don’t blame him. So Lysandros left them vacant.”
Kyblannos nodded. “Now it’s up to Selestros to fill those chairs. And, as a start, who better than yourself? Still, I just hate seeing you seat that pervert on the Iron Throne.”
“It’s the smart thing to do, Kyblannos. I don’t want to be tied down to rebuilding Hos-Harphax, not when I’ve got my own lands to tend to. And, Princess Arminta cautioned against it, too. Besides, Selestros has no treasury and his army owes more loyalty to me than him. Plus, there’s the heir apparent to hang over his head.”
“Lysandros’ child. It’s too bad you’re already married, not to disparage the Princess. However, the Great Queen is good on the eyes.”
“But she’s a spoiled, willful spitcat! I’d marry her off to you, if you were single!”
“No, you wouldn’t. Geblon will be a better match,” Kyblannos said, drawing back.
“Hmm. From banner-bearer to Great King…well, now that he’s a Prince, it’s not all that farfetched. How do you think Geblon likes being Prince of Harphax?”
“Oh, I’m sure Geblon likes it well enough, Great King even better—even if it means sleeping with that she-cat.”
“Or maybe because,” Phidestros hooted. “Anyway, it’s something to chew on. Let’s ride down to the abatis and see how our new troops are doing. I suspect someone will be impatient to receive their reward.”
“Speaking of rewards, Cap’n. I understand Lysandros took a good share of the loot the Grand Host grabbed when they sacked Nythros City. If we’re not careful, the King’s soldiers will make off with most of it.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought. We both know now that the King is dead; the first thing his soldiers will do is rob his private food wagon and then loot the treasury wagons.”
“By Galzar’s Mace, anything that’s smaller than a horse will be long gone.”
Phidestros drew his horse up. “My plan is thus: I will tell them that anyone who wants to join either the Army of Greater Beshta, or remain in the Army of Hos-Harphax, will have to give up whatever gold they’ve stolen. In exchange, they’ll get a good meal and a guarantee of more to come.”
Kyblannos smiled showing off his large teeth. “Food to these starving wretches will be worth more than gold and jewels. Good thinking, Cap’n.”
“My next pronouncement will be that all the soldiers will be physically searched and that if any hidden coins or gold are discovered, they will be labeled as thieves and have their right hand cut off, then be left behind without victuals or water.”
“By the Wargod’s Mace, no one wants to be left here to die! That’ll discourage all but the boldest among them,” Kyblannos offered.
“True,” Phidestros said. “Still, many of the men will swallow gold coins, jewels, almost anything they can shove down their gullets.”
Kyblannos nodded. “I’ve seen men on the battlefield rob corpses and eat everything but daggers to keep them out of the provost’s hands.”
“Exactly. Which is why you’re going to tell them that we have a special wolfhound—actually that big cur that’s been following us since we left Besh Town—who can sniff out gold even if it’s hidden in a man’s gut.”
“I gotcha. We can tell them that the cur’s one of Hadron’s Demon Hounds come down to aid us in our war against the Regicide.”
“Brilliant idea, Kyblannos! Then we’ll find a snitch, and there’ll be lots of them, who will inform on one of the fools who swallowed a few coins. Put some bear grease on him beforehand, then let Hadron’s Hound sniff him out.”
“Diabolical, Cap’n! They’ll be all over themselves to get rid of all the coins they’ve eaten.”
“Yes, and to those who admit to having swallowed my gold, as punishment; they can sift though the communal latrines until we return to Beshta.”
III
Prince Sthentros paced back and forth in his private bedchamber. I suppose, I should be on my knees thanking the gods I still have my head.
All his plans, once again, had been thwarted. The party he had sent out to warn Prince Phidestros had been ambushed by former Great King Lysandros’ soldiers and killed for the paltry foodstuffs they carried in their saddlebags and the horses they rode off on. Then Hostigos Town had been s
acked once again, this time by a disorganized mob of starving soldiers, who left as quickly as they’d arrived, having eaten everything digestible but the palace wall hangings.
Highpriest Walthar had gotten the worst of it. The soldiers, if those starving varlets could be called such, had not only sacked the Styphon’s House Temple, but they’d murdered all the priests as well. Most of the Temple’s gold roof had been ripped off and stuffed into saddlebags before the mob left, mostly to accept the muster coins Prince Phidestros was promising. If it wasn’t for that, they’d still be in Hostigos Town eating everything down to the cellar baseboards.
Most of the farmers had left town to return to what was left of their fall crops. It appeared that the hungry soldiers had eaten much of it, even the unripe squash and pumpkins. Praise be to Yirtta, they’d left most of the unharvested barley and rye alone. At least there’d be bread and gruel to eat this winter.
Now, Sthentros didn’t know what he was going to do. His benefactor, Great King Lysandros, was dead, and Great King-Elect Selestros had no love for him. He doubted his daughter would last a day after word arrived in Harphax City of Phidestros’ victory and Lysandros’ death. His one opportunity to prove his worth to Prince Phidestros had been thwarted by the starving horde of Harphaxi soldiers.
He still had about fifty thousand ounces of gold stashed away for such a situation. Where can I go? Too many people know my face now in Harphax City and Hos-Agrys is embroiled in war. Hos-Ktemnos is too close to Styphon’s House for my safety. I want to be as far away from those manure-eating priests and their Investigation as I can get.
Maybe it’s time for me to disappear and find a small barony in Sask. I’ve never met Phidestros and his captains and no one knows me there. I could use my gold to buy a sizeable holding under a new identity.
IV
The screams of men and women being tortured and maimed by the Investigation ripped through the night air. Most were peasants and serfs who’d not left their farms when the army made its way through Beshta. The campfire flared up as if in answer. The Investigators’ encampment was surrounded by a wall of Knights in their black tunics, quiet but for the rustle of steel on leather. Orocles knew his men were as disquieted by the Investigation as he was.
“But you swore an oath!” Princess Arminta cried. “Can’t you stop this beast from torturing and murdering my people?” Her voice dropped and tears streamed down her face. “When I surrendered, you promised to stop the siege and release the town.”
Archpriest Roxthar loomed over her like a starving panther. “Oaths to infidels are not sanctioned! It is our duty to take Besh Town and Investigate it for the True God!”
Knight Commander Orocles put up his hand. “I gave my sworn word, Archpriest. You will stop the Investigation or you will face my wrath.” He turned and pointed out the wall of Knights surrounding the Investigator’s encampment. “My orders from Styphon’s Voice were to bring the Princess, alive and unharmed, to Balph. Do you dare defy Styphon’s Own Voice On Earth?”
Orocles wanted to leave at once. The alternative was to tarry too long in Beshta and have to face Phidestros and his army which outnumbered them, from all reports, three to one. He’d seen the Prince in action and he was a brilliant commander; he hoped Anaxthenes knew what he was doing with this ruse. If not, Styphon’s Voice might soon learn he had an alligator by the snout.
“In the name of Styphon, the One True God, I demand that you release the Princess into my hands,” Roxthar commanded. “She is a heretic and must be Investigated.”
Orocles knew of Roxthar’s humiliation in Hostigos City at the hands of Prince Phidestros, but he hadn’t realized how powerful his desire for revenge had grown. “Archpriest, you are still bound by the will of the Inner Circle and Styphon’s Own Voice. It is upon the Supreme Priest’s orders that I am acting. I will escort the Princess to Balph. There is no room for argument.”
“You deny me, Commander, at your own peril!” Roxthar cried, his eyes burning. In the pulsing firelight, with his sinewy arms flapping in his white robe, he looked like a giant preying mantis.
“I am a believer in Styphon and a consecrated member of the Holy Order of Zarthani Knights. I will not be talked to like some lackey! You will show more respect or I’ll have you clapped in irons!”
To punctuate this, his guards pulled out their swords and held them menacingly.
The Investigator looked around at the wall of steel and balled his hands in frustration. “I will not forget this! I will inform Lord Marshal Xenophes of your insubordination.”
Orocles spat out his words, “Do as you please, priest. My men outnumber his Temple Guard three to one. I do not think he will disobey Styphon’s Voice’s direct orders, not when I can back them with the Order’s steel.”
As the Investigator marched off into the dark with his torch bearer, Orocles turned to his aid, Horse Master Athlan. “Ready the men, we will leave at first light.”
“But, Knight Commander, the castle still stands! If we leave with our artillery, it will never fall.”
“That’s not our problem. We’re caught between Ormaz’s Demons and Regwarn’s Caverns. Too much time has passed in besieging Besh Town, Prince Phidestros will be returning soon. I do not want to be in Beshta or even Syriphlon upon his return.”
“What about the Investigators?”
“They will leave or face our swords. I am oath-sworn. We will escort them out of the princedom. Where they go after that, I do not care. I do not expect they will be welcome in Balph. We have our own duty and skins to consider.”
TWENTY-⊕NE
I
Kalvan was pleased to see that real progress was being made in the rebuilding of the Duchy of Baltor. The sound of hammering and the thwacking of axes filled the air. The Styphoni had leveled most of the buildings, but it appeared the majority of the commoners had escaped their slave gangs. Baltor Town was another story, but he suspected things would go much better after he installed Count Vinaldos as Grand Duke. He would do that on the way back, as he had need of the Count’s knowledge for the conquest of Nythros.
It felt good to be back in the saddle again, so-to-speak, leading an army rather than pushing a quill pen in his Palace office. That was just one of the problems with being the indispensable man, he needed to be in twelve places at once doing work no one else could accomplish. On the other hand, it beat the Styphon out of driving a police cruiser chasing drunken hillbillies and wife beaters.
For once, they were going to have a peaceful winter with plenty of foodstuffs, no imminent invasions, no Investigation and no other threats that he needed to worry about. It was true that his spies reported that King Theovacar was busy raising a new army in Ult-Greffa and building new warships as fast as he could. Regardless, it would still be another year or two before he replaced those ships and men lost this year. The reports of troop movements from Dorg and Tarr-Ceros into Lyros were more worrisome, but nothing that threatened Thagnor for the time being. Next spring he might have to settle some hash in that area, but until then it was a problem for another time.
Things in the Five Kingdoms were in a complete state of flux, with Grand Master Soton consolidating his rule in Agrys City, while the League of Dralm tried to rebuild its forces after their failed attack in the early summer. Great King-Elect Selestros was now sitting on the Iron Throne at the connivance of Prince Phidestros, who was in Hos-Hostigos to fight his former Great King so that Selestros could “officially” be Elected Great King of Hos-Harphax. Meanwhile, Hos-Bletha was in the middle of a dynastic war aided and abetted by his own Chief of Foreign Intelligence, Duke Skranga.
He wasn’t worried about any Styphoni reprisals this year and probably not for another two more, at least until Soton conquered the rest of Hos-Agrys. By then the Grand Master might well be drawn into the internecine warfare in Hos-Harphax, which might not be sorted out for a decade. For the first time since he’d been dropped off that cross-time saucer, he could actually put the Styphon’s House threa
t to the back of his mind.
Progress was being made on the new model blast furnaces; not that he expected they would be able to produce anything like cold-rolled steel, but they should be capable of casting steel plates large enough for the proposed steam engines. This time next year, he’d like to have a start on a small fleet of paddlewheelers. The paddlewheelers would be ideal for the local rivers as well as bays and harbors, but not for the Great Lakes which were known for their witch’s brew of storms.
The Griffin, explorer Robert de LaSalle’s ship, one of the largest ships launched in the Seventeenth Century, was lost on her maiden voyage, carrying a load of furs, and not even a single timber was recovered. Great Lakes storms were known to explode across hundreds of miles of open water with little to no warning. Many captains claimed that their storms were more difficult to navigate than ocean storms due to the fact that the lake waters could jump and strike so quickly.
Galleys and galleasses were popular in the Saltless Seas, as they had thick hulls and banks of oars so they could paddle their way to shore if necessary to avoid storms. The majority of boats, however, were gaff-rigged schooners which could sail into the wind and drop their sails quickly if a storm came up suddenly, as they frequently did.
Kalvan’s musings were halted by the arrival of Count Vinaldos and two of his men.
“Your Majesty! Urgent news from Balph.”
Balph! he wondered. He knew that Duke Skranga had a small spy ring there, but their messages were few and far between. Theirs was the most dangerous post in the Five Kingdoms. To be caught as a Hostigi spy meant being boiled in hot oil, or being tortured to death by the Investigation. It was only due to Skranga’s perseverance and deviousness that they had any kind of intelligence operation in the Holy City of Styphon’s House.