Gunpowder God

by John F. Carr

  A lone rider with silvered armor came riding out alone to greet them. Phidestros quickly identified him as Captain-General Cythros. As he drew closer, it appeared that the Captain-General had aged ten winters in the moon since they’d departed.

  “Your Highness, I have come to atone for the loss of your wife,” Cythros said, his face drawn tight with lines framing his face.

  Phidestros sucked in his breath. He had promised himself he would not assign blame until he heard everyone’s story of this disaster.

  He gave the signal to halt the party. The smell of decaying bodies was almost overpowering and he didn’t want to get any closer to Besh Town until he heard Cythros’ tale.

  “Tell me everything,” Phidestros ordered.

  Cythros went into how the Styphoni had used the border reivers to mask their attack and how they ambushed the punitive expedition he’d sent to the Beshtan/Syriphlon border. Next he detailed how they had put a stranglehold on Besh Town and used their artillery to destroy the gatehouses and town gate. He had filled Tarr-Beshta with all the surviving soldiers and all the townspeople and peasants the walls would hold, some twelve thousand in number. Finally, how Princess Arminta had offered herself in return for the lives of those townsmen still remaining in Besh Town.

  The Captain-General ran out of breath and sat in his saddle breathing hard.

  “What happened then?” he demanded.

  Cythros received Phidestros’ words like a gunshot and jumped, startling his horse. When he’d calmed him down, he patted his mount’s neck, saying, “She received a return missive from Knight Commander Orocles giving the Princess his oath that the slaughter and rapine of the townspeople would halt the moment she gave herself up.”

  “Did you even try to dissuade her?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. By Galzar’s Mace, I used everything in my power to convince her that the Styphoni were a pack of lying thieves and not to be trusted—even under oath.” He shrugged. “She refused to listen to a word I said…I told her they would kill the townspeople anyway and the only wise thing to do was to wait upon your return. I knew the cowards would flee as soon as your Army was within a day’s ride.”

  Phidestros nodded, he was well aware of his wife’s stubbornness and belief in the good will of others. “What happened then?”

  “They took her away two days ago. She was not bound, nor tied. Knight Commander Orocles and his men left, taking with them Archpriest Roxthar and four Temple Bands of Styphon’s Own Guard. They took many of your subjects with them in chains.”

  “By all the True Gods, I swear revenge upon Orocles, Styphon’s Own Voice and most especially Archpriest Roxthar!”

  “Your Highness, I offer you my life.” Cythros held his blade to his jugular vein. “It was under my watch the Princess was taken hostage.”

  Phidestros reached over, knocking the dagger out of his hand. “You will do no such thing. It’s not your fault; you acted upon the Princess’s orders. I could expect nothing less. Did you think you could have trussed her up until I returned?”

  “No, Your Highness! I could never lay a hand upon the Princess.”

  “Then you did all you could. Why are you burying all the bodies?”

  “Sickness. I don’t want the townspeople to become ill.”

  “Cythros, these are not soldiers who will end up in Galzar’s Hall. Let the grave tenders sort them out so the townspeople can clean and bury their dead. If they are not washed and given their favorite gifts, they will never find a place in the Sky-Palaces. We are not barbarians. Yes, I know you do not believe in the gods, but you must respect the beliefs of those who do.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll set up work details immediately.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” he said, holding up a leather folder. “There’s a dispatch for you that Knight Commander Orocles left for you.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “No, Your Highness. It’s sealed with Styphon’s Voice’s seal.”

  “You are dismissed.” He sent the rest of the Army into Besh Town, while he used his knife to slit the red candle wax seal.

  To the misbegotten bastard and regicide who calls himself Prince Phidestros:

  Without Our knowledge or permission, you have taken it upon yourself to raise yourself up in rebellion against your lawful King, Great King Lysandros, and put his unwholesome nephew upon the Iron Throne. In response, We in our Majesty have sent an Army to despoil Besh Town and capture your wife, Princess Arminta and your unborn child.

  Phidestros shook his head, as though to clear the cobwebs. Does Styphon’s Voice now believe he is a king? He refers to himself in the royal plural like one. Never before has Styphon’s House displayed its arrogance so openly! This Anaxthenes needs to be put down like a rabid dog.

  Taking deep breaths, Phidestros calmed himself down and began to read the parchment again:

  The Princess will remain Our hostage to see that you do Our will in the matter of deposing the false Great King-Elect Selestros, son of former Great King Kaiphranos. We demand that you return to Harphax City and slay him, bringing Us back his head as proof that the deed was done as We have directed.

  If this is not done within two moons, We will put the Princess into the hands of the Holy Investigator Roxthar and his Holy Investigation. Upon receipt of the Great King-Elect’s head, We will release your wife into the hands of your emissary.

  Styphon’s Own Voice.

  Supreme Priest Anaxthenes

  Styphon’s House on Earth

  “What does it say?” Kyblannos asked.

  Phidestros read it to him slowly, his voice growing in anger.

  Kyblannos let lose with a string of curses, finishing with, “The arrogance of that son-of-a-diseased-sheep arse-wiper who calls himself Styphon’s Voice.”

  Phidestros’ face was beet red and felt as if he’d been struck dumb. “Ahh! I want to take my army into Balph and kill every living thing, down to the rats that live in the walls!”

  “You cannot lose your wits over Styphon’s House’s despicable act, Cap’n. We must remain calm, for if we act in anger, it is your wife and unborn child who will pay.”

  “I know! It’s tearing me apart!”

  “Let me go to Harphax City in your stead. I’ll take a company of the Iron Band and inform Geblon of what has happened. Then I’ll cut off Selestros’ head myself and bring it here.”

  “What am I to do? I’ll go mad, if I have nothing to occupy my time.”

  “It’s too late to prepare for a big campaign, Cap’n. Most of the roads leading into Hos-Ktemnos are flooded or washed out. What you need to do is repair the town and help your subjects deal with their losses. After I return with your wife, we’ll have plenty of time to prepare a proper response to this vile piece of treachery!”

  Phidestros nodded. “You are right. Arminta and the baby must come first. But this act of infamy will not be forgotten. And will be repaid in blood.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I

  Sirna felt a vibration at her throat from her Allmother Yirtta image which she wore around her neck on a gold chain. It was a First Level hand-communicator designed to look like a local fetish. As she pulled it up to her face, she twisted the tiny headdress so that she could activate the send and receive function. To any nearby Zarthani, it would appear that she was asking her image of the fertility goddess for a gift or favor.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Sirna, it’s Maldar Dard. I’ve got some urgent news.”

  Despite her First Level mental controls, Sirna felt her pulse race. “What is it?”

  “Great King Lysandros is dead at the hands of his own soldiers. Most of them were starving; rather than fight Prince Phidestros and suffer defeat, they cut off their King’s head and surrendered.”

  Poor Lavena, Sirna thought. What will the poor woman do now? She’s already an outsider to her subjects and nobles. With Lysandros dead, she’s in terrible jeopardy. “I don’t under
stand why the Harphaxi army didn’t fight for their King.”

  “Sirna, their return from the Middle Kingdoms had been fraught with hardships; the lands they were passing through had been turned into wastelands, first by Kalvan during his retreat, then later by the Grand Host. Many of the Harphaxi soldiers were starving to death or suffering from diseases associated with malnutrition. Lysandros had led them on a long foreign adventure that didn’t pan out when the Siege of Thagnor failed.

  “It’s no surprise that Lysandros’ soldiers blamed him for the mess he made by going into the Middle Kingdoms after Kalvan. The only thing gained was a small share of the spoils of Nythros, Baltor and Morthron.”

  “So with Lysandros dead, will Selestros become the next great king of Hos-Harpahx?”

  Dard sighed. “It’s not that simple, Sirna. Captain-General Kyblannos is on his way to Harphax City to kill Great King-Elect Selestros, then bring his head back to Phidestros.”

  “What? Has this whole time-line gone mad! Phidestros was the one who seated Selestros onto the Iron Throne; why would he then turnaround and have him killed?”

  “He has no choice. While Phidestros was off in Hostigos, Styphon’s House attacked Besh Town and took Princess Arminta prisoner. If the Prince wants his wife back, he has to provide them with Selestros’ head; it’s all politics, Sirna. Styphon’s House wants to do away with Selestros, who’s an avowed Dralmite, before he can aid the war in Hos-Agrys.”

  Sirna shook her head. She had to fight the feeling that Arminta was getting her just desserts. After all, if she hadn’t married Phidestros, he would still be unmarried and with Sirna. And none of this madness would be happening.

  Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better; deep down she liked Princess Arminta and the poor woman was pregnant, to boot. Her own claims to Phidestros were short-term and selfish. And who was going to tell Great Queen Lavena?

  “That’s terrible,” she replied. “Queen Lavena’s going to be hysterical when she learns that her husband is dead; for some reason she really loves that arrogant idiot she’s married to. When’s Kyblannos going to arrive?”

  “He just left Besh Town with a company of Iron Band soldiers. They won’t be arriving for at least two to three days at the earliest.”

  “What should I do? I can’t tell her that her husband is dead.”

  “No, that would be Paratemporal Contamination. All I suggest is that you be there when Kyblannos and his men arrive with the news of Lysandros’ death. That’s when she’ll really need your support.”

  II

  As soon as word came that Kyblannos and his party had arrived, Sirna quickly made her way up the staircase to the Queen’s bedchambers. Lavena had been suffering from dizzy spells and confined to her bed. Sirna reached the upper stairs only to hear the Queen’s screams of grief ripping through the corridors.

  Sirna ran to the bedchamber. The door was open and several of the Queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting were backing out.

  “Get out, you she-witches! None of you care; I can see it in your eyes!”

  As Sirna rushed through the doorway, Lavena called out, “Sirna, he’s dead! They’ve killed my husband!”

  Lavena was half out of her bed, her belly bulging out as she fought to push aside the bearskin bedcover. Sirna ran over to the Queen and helped put her back into her bed. Forcing herself to speak in a calm voice, she said, “You can’t leave. If you fall again, it could hurt the baby.”

  The Queen’s head bobbed up and down. “I know it, it’s that I’m in so much pain! How could the gods have done this! I loved him and now he’s gone.” Lavena began to wail like a bobcat caught in a bear trap; her voice was so loud it literally hurt Sirna’s ears.

  She reached over and held her in her arms. “You have to let go, Lavena. Crying and screaming to the gods are not going to help. You have to start thinking about the baby.”

  Lavena, tears streaming down her face, cradled her belly. “What if they come to murder me and my baby?”

  Sirna shook her head. “They won’t. I won’t let them.” She pulled the hideaway pistol out of a pocket in her skirt. “They’ll have to kill me, first.”

  “Thank you, oh thank you, Sirna. You’re the only friend I have in the world.”

  Sadly, Lavena was right. The poor woman had been living a nightmare ever since she’d arrived in Harphax City.

  “Great King-Elect Selestros hates me! I know he does. He’ll be the new king. What will I do?” She began to sob again.

  Sirna sighed. “No. He’ll be dead, too. Captain-General Kyblannos is outside the City Gates and once he reaches the palace, he will kill Selestros.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I have friends who tell me things. It won’t be a secret for long.”

  “What will happen to me, then?”

  “After Selestros’ death, you and your baby will be the two most important people in the Kingdom of Hos-Harphax. That’s what will happen.” What she left unspoken was: “If someone doesn’t stick a blade between your ribs first.”

  III

  Kyblannos noticed that the streets of Harphax City were strangely quiet, even more deserted than during the aftermath of the riots. There were two-man patrols of Iron Band soldiers at every street corner. They saluted Kyblannos and his banner as his party made their way to the Royal Palace. For a people whose hated ruler had just been dispatched, the townspeople were strangely subdued; it was as if the City was holding its collective breath while waiting for events outside their scope to unfold.

  He wondered what their reaction would be when Selestros had his head chopped off and they were faced with a new successor.

  The Palace gates were well-guarded with a score of Iron Band soldiers. Their welcoming smiles were the first he’d seen since arriving at the city gates. He was escorted by his own guard to Captain-General Geblon’s office. The Great King-Elect’s personal guard were not in evidence and he suspected that was Geblon’s way of keeping Selestros in his proper place.

  He was announced at the door by a captain and left his guard outside. Inside, Geblon was sitting at a table covered with parchments which his scribe was sifting through. He rose up to clasp arms with Kyblannos. “How goes it, comrade?”

  Kyblannos laughed. “It’s all upside down.”

  “You’re laughing, but you’re not smiling. I take it things are not going well?”

  “You’re right,” he answered. “I need to talk to you in private.”

  Geblon dismissed his aides and told the guards to clear the hallways. “Things must really be up in the air. But they can’t be too bad, or you’d have brought an army with you.”

  “Strange times, indeed, old friend. We had no trouble with Lysandros’ Army. Taking his head was as easy as stealing milk from a kitten. His army was half-starved. Right after we arrived it broke up like a limestone rock under a sledgehammer. The trouble started when we returned to Besh Town. During our absence, the Styphoni made a surprise raid on Besh Town and captured the Princess.”

  “Princess Arminta? Oh, by all the true gods, what a cock-up! The Captain must be beside himself!”

  “I’ve never seen Phidestros so Dralm-damned pissed off. He was ready to take the entire army down into Hos-Ktemnos and raze Balph to its very foundations!”

  “I don’t doubt it. How did you stop him?”

  “Told him if he did, it would seal the Princess’ fate. Those Styphoni manure eaters would kill her in a heartbeat. He knows it, too. So, for now, we’re doing what the Temple demands.”

  “What’s that?” Geblon asked.

  “We’re going to give them Selestros’ head.”

  “What? After all we went through to seat him on the Throne!”

  “That’s Styphon’s Voice’s price for Arminta and the baby,” Kyblannos answered.

  “That going to cause no end of problems around here….”

  “Not our problem, but it might be yours.”

  “What do you mean, Kyblannos? Stop being mysteri
ous.”

  Kyblannos guffawed. “Well, Prince Geblon, with Great King-Elect Selestros shortly arriving in Regwarn, you’re going to be the new Prince-Regent of Hos-Harphax.”

  “By Galzar’s Mace! It’s bad enough the Captain made me Prince of Harphax. I don’t want to be Prince-Regent; I want to go back to being a soldier.”

  “You know the Cap’n. He doesn’t trust civilians. It’s his decision.”

  Geblon bent his head. “I know. I don’t regret all the things Phidestros’ done for me, but I miss the old times….”

  Kyblannos grinned. “I don’t. Things are much more interesting these days.”

  “What does he have you doing now?” Geblon asked.

  “I’m going to be the emissary to Styphon’s House and bring the Princess back.”

  “Now, that’s a job I don’t mind not having,” Geblon said. “What if Styphon’s Voice kills the Princess anyway, even after you deliver Selestros’ head?”

  “Phidestros’ll slash and burn every priest in the Five Kingdoms. Styphon’s House will never know what hit them!”

  Geblon nodded. “You’re right there. And we’ll be at his side! These damn bully priests, they all wet their robes when you draw a sword. So I’m to be the new Prince-Regent … By Galzar’s Mace, we don’t even have an heir, yet.”

  “One of your jobs will be to keep watch on Great Queen Lavena.”

  “What do you mean by that, Kyblannos?”

  “Phidestros wants you to wed her before the baby’s born.”

  “Me and that She Devil! No doubt she’s a panthress in the sack, but her nails draw blood, too.”

  “Better you, than me,” Kyblannos smirked.

  “We’ve never seen eye to eye, me and the Queen. Why should that change now?”

  “Because, Geblon, she’s a realist. With Lysandros dead and her a widow, she only has one protector—the Cap’n. He’s already married so that leaves one of his trusted captains. I’m married, too; so, who’s left?”

  “What about Cythros?”