Gunpowder God

by John F. Carr

  Afraid of ridicule, Syllon had only shared his vision with his closest friends. He still believed that he had visited Galzar’s Hall and only returned because the Wargod had other plans for him, which explained his barren fields. Before coming to the tavern, he had visited Galzar’s Temple and talked with Highpriest Tharses. The Highpriest, who knew of his vision, suggested that he join the expedition into Hos-Agrys, telling him that Styphon was a Demon who wanted to destroy all the gods. Fighting against the forces of Styphon was Galzar’s Work and Syllon, as one of the Wargod’s blessed, would be rewarded in the afterlife for fighting against the False God.

  He was still looking for a stool when Gatnos, a one-eyed fellow Veteran of the Long March, approached him. Since Gatnos was carrying several leather tankards of ale, they didn’t clasp arms in the usual greeting. Instead, they nodded.

  “Come join us, Syllon.”

  He followed his comrade to a bench close to the hearth, where a kitchen boy was tossing in more wood. The fireplace belched a cloud of smoke which quickly began to clear.

  Syllon coughed and rubbed his hands together briskly. He was still wet from his journey from Galzar’s Temple. After his fingers warmed up, he removed his wool cloak and hung it on a dowel set next to the hearth.

  Gatnos introduced him to the other soldiers on the bench. “Here is the luckiest soldier alive! He’s fought in every major battle since Lord Kalvan’s arrival and he still has all his limbs and parts!”

  The other men nodded in appreciation of his survival skills.

  “He must have Lytris’ Own Luck,” one soldier remarked.

  “Lytris be damned,” Gatnos said, “I grow weary of this miserable land. In the winter, there’s too much snow and in the spring, too much rain.”

  Syllon laughed. “Maybe because in your prayers you’re calling the weather goddess by the wrong name. In these parts, she is called Lystris.”

  “Baah! I can’t wait until the expedition marches out of this mud-hole,” Gatnos complained. “I don’t like the Urgothi tongue and I don’t have any room in my head to stuff it.”

  “One too many sword blows to the helmet,” a one-armed man acknowledged.

  They all laughed.

  “Are any of you joining the Army of Dralm?” Syllon asked.

  Gatnos and two others answered in the affirmative.

  “Me, too,” he told them.

  “What about your farm?” Gatnos asked.

  “My only crops were weeds and rocks. It’s time to return to the trade I’m good at.”

  “Maybe this time we can drive the Styphoni weasels back into their holes,” Gatnos said. “I miss Hostigos Town and all my favorite drinking holes, like the Red Halberd.”

  They all nodded.

  The one-armed man said, “I’d like to pay back those butchers in the white bed sheets who killed my wife and family, blast and curse them all! But there’s no place in the army for a man with one arm.”

  They all nodded sympathetically.

  Syllon added, “At least, in Nos-Hostigos, our Great King cares about the veterans. You have a job collecting bridge tolls and even have your own room. Back in the Great Kingdoms, you’d be begging on the street corners for a few coppers and sleeping in the streets.” In Nos-Hostigos, King Kalvan had created what he called the civil service where the recovered wounded were given jobs as toll collectors, tax agents and census takers for the King’s Doomsday Book.

  “You’re right,” the one-armed man agreed. “A toast to the greatest king in all the world!”

  “Long live Kalvan!” they all shouted in unison.

  II

  Phidestros was curious as to what this spring would bring. For sure peace had its place, but he chafed at his Princely duties. They didn’t seem as important as leading armies and fighting wars. To the north of Hos-Harphax there was war with armies and a large convoy on the move, yet here he was in this island of peace. I should be thanking the gods, but it doesn’t feel right, he thought. Maybe I’ve been fighting for such a long time that I can’t let go.

  Princess Arminta entered his study chamber with the baby in one arm. “Why the long face, husband?”

  He shook his head. “I’m bored, tired of squabbling farmers and bickering barons. Plus, I’m worrying over the invasion plans.”

  “We must pick the right moment to strike, otherwise we might end up fighting the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance.” She put the baby down in the cradle that he kept in his chamber for her convenience. Unlike most noblewomen, Arminta was not content to let the nursemaids feed and raise their son. It was her will to spend almost every waking moment with the child. He wondered if it was the result of her confinement in Balph, or her natural motherly instinct. Either way, it was fine with him; he just wanted to keep her happy.

  “My worry,” Phidestros said, “is that if Soton is successful in his bid to conquer Hos-Agrys this campaign season, then next spring we will have to fight him on our way to Hos-Zygros.”

  “Why not go by ship?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “The Styphoni control the ocean. Hos-Harphax only has a small fleet; not nearly enough ships to transport twenty-five thousand men. We would either have to negotiate ships and passage with Styphon’s House or risk being at their mercy on the open seas. I cannot see Styphon’s House allowing us to use their ships to transport our army so that we can overthrow one of their allies.”

  “It’s unfortunate, but I fear you are right,” Arminta said. “This spring will probably be the best time to leave for Zygros City. Once Soton consolidates his rule over Hos-Agrys, which it appears he will do, you will not be able to gain passage for our army unless you make concessions to Soton and Styphon’s House. If we are to leave for Hos-Zygros, we should leave this spring.”

  “My plan is that we wait until Soton has left Agrys City and is busy chasing or fighting the League of Dralm before we leave. The last thing Soton will want is to fight the Beshtan Army, while the League of Dralm will pray he does. Neither army will try and stop us, while both may attempt to enlist us in their war.”

  “Oh, you mean we can play both sides off against each other?” she asked.

  “Exactly. Tell them what they want to hear. Although it is very unlikely that we will run into either army. If I were Soton, I would either go northeast through Cythor and Arbelon—both of which are allies—and go straight into Zcynos, which is one of the strongest of the League’s Princedoms. Or, I would go west to join up with the Union of Styphon’s Friends in Kryphlon. We will be traveling along the coast of Hos-Agrys; if we run across Soton’s army it would be somewhere between Zcynos and Kelos, another hotbed of Dralmists. If it should happen, I’m certain that the Styphoni will be too busy with their sieges and sackings to give us any trouble. And, if they do, we’ll be strong enough to make them wish they’d stayed in Agrys City.”

  “You’re right, my husband, by the end of summer the war in Hos-Agrys—unless the gods intervene—will be over and the winner will have time to consolidate and might be able to delay, or even stop, our forces if we delay another winter. I think it is a good plan. I just wish our intelligencers had been able to tell us when King Eudocles was going to invade Kelos.”

  “It doesn’t much matter, my love. It will be better for us if most of my father’s army is tied up in Kelos rather than in Hos-Zygros. That means there won’t be a Royal Army in Zygros City to stop our invasion. Plus, we can play the Zygrosi Dralmists off against Styphon’s Union.”

  “I doubt your father is well thought of by either side. You may find yourself welcomed by all.”

  “From what I know of my father, you’re probably right.” Phidestros paused to take out his pipe and tinderbox. “A few moons under my father’s rule will diminish whatever little affection and regard his subjects hold for him. He is a hard taskmaster and will bleed the kingdom dry with his taxes and surcharges. He will spend gold like water on palaces and monuments to his grandeur. The only people who will gain by his reign will be the gamblers, pimps
and slave dealers. In short time both the Zygrosi League of Dralm and the Union of Styphon’s Friends will be eager to slip his reins.”

  “Who will we leave in charge of our lands here?” she asked. “Duke Kyblannos?”

  “No, Kyblannos comes with us. No one in the Five Kingdoms knows more about artillery than he does. Plus, I need to keep someone about me whom I trust completely.”

  “I will miss him….”

  Phidestros shook his head. “No, you and the Court will be coming with us. Those soldiers with families will bring them along, the rest will find new ones in Hos-Zygros.”

  “It was our plan that you would conquer Hos-Zygros,” Arminta said, “while the baby and I would follow later with many of our subjects. Have you changed your mind?”

  “Yes. After our passage and that of Styphon’s Host, the roads will be impassable or too dangerous for small parties. Bandits and scavengers will own the countryside for many winters. Victuals will be impossible to find. You remember my stories of passing through Kyblos and Hostigos.”

  Arminta nodded. “Ghastly. However, our train will be bigger than the Army’s. How will we provide provisions for so many?”

  He paused to knock the dottle out of his pipe and refill it. “Last year’s harvest was a good one, especially the potato harvest. We’ll take what we need with us, as well as forage. I don’t suspect there will be much to buy, beg or steal in Hos-Agrys with three armies moving around the countryside.”

  “The poor Agrysi people,” she said.

  Phidestros nodded. “Their previous Great King did poorly by them. Now, they will pay for his ineptitude. If Demistophon had supported Styphon’s House, he would still be alive and his Kingdom free of their soldiers. On the other hand, had he supported Kalvan and come to his aid, Kalvan might still be ruling in Hos-Hostigos and Styphon’s House would be but a shell of itself. By staying neutral, he condemned himself and his subjects.”

  “May we not suffer the same fate?”

  Phidestros grinned. “Kalvan is gone. Styphon’s House is in decline. Even if they hold Hos-Agrys, it will be a precarious peace. Plus, they will have to devour the countryside to control it. I saw what Styphon’s House’s Investigation did to most of Hos-Hostigos.

  “Meanwhile, we will have our own army and a Kingdom that will not be unprepared for war. As well as a faithful and loyal ally in Great King Geblon. No, even if they hold Hos-Agrys and Hos-Ktemnos, Styphon’s House will not be stronger than our combined Kingdoms.”

  “It is a good plan, my husband. But who will stay and rule Greater Beshta in our absence?”

  “I will entitle Grand-Captain Cythros as Duke of Sask and he can rule our Harphaxi lands. I will leave him some twelve thousand men, including militia, This will provide him with enough strength that he will be able to hold the borders until Geblon arrives with more troops, should Styphon’s House be so foolish to mount an attack in our absence.”

  “Is it your plan to maintain a dual residence?” Arminta asked.

  “No, once we have been enthroned in Hos-Zygros, I will leave Cythros in charge of Beshta, while I maintain my title as Prince of Greater Beshta. Duke Cythros will administer our lands, while we rule in Zygros City. This will make Great King Geblon my co-equal as Great King and my overlord as Great King of Hos-Harphax.”

  “Ingenious, and if it were anyone else but those three stalwarts, I would think you were daft.”

  “I already discussed my plans with them last time I was in Harphax City. Once I have secured the Ivory Throne, we will have Hos-Agrys between the grips of our vise. Next, we will build our own fleet of warships so that we can protect our own merchant ships. When Soton is finished conquering Hos-Agrys and returns to Tarr-Ceros, we will make our inroads into that kingdom. One day we will rule the Five Kingdoms from Hos-Zygros down to Hos-Bletha and no one—not even Grand Master Soton or Great King Kalvan—will be able to stop us. Our son will grow up to rule a kingdom far greater than even that of his namesake.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  I

  The thoroughfares of Kryphlon City were both broad and prosperous, with wagons and carriages filling the cobblestone streets in both directions. The buildings were mostly made of stone and towered over the streets. The townsmen were well-dressed and appeared prosperous. There were shrines and temples on almost every block, busiest were the shrines of Yirtta and the temples of Dralm.

  A lot of wasted land and loot that Prince Varion could be putting into his own pockets, Prince Simias of Cythor observed. If things go as planned, soon this will all be mine and Prince Varion but a memory. All I have to do is get the backing of that madman, Archpriest Roxthar.

  Riding alongside was his trusted aide, Baron Thalvar, a broad man with a thick neck and small shaved head distinguished by a walrus mustache. He was a former mercenary with a fearsome reputation as a street brawler during his youth. Thalvar feared little in this world, but understood he owed his title, lands and loyalty to his Prince. Simias found him useful in his dealing with obdurate opponents.

  Thalvar said, “There’s Styphon’s House’s Temple.”

  He saw the usual Styphon’s House large circular temple, covered with a broad golden dome, with rectangular wings on both sides, dominating the block with its presence. But Simias quickly noted that there were very few worshippers and visitors. So, Styphon’s House is not so popular in Kryphlon. That’s good to know. I’m sure it sticks in Roxthar’s craw like a fishbone.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to poke a stick into the bear’s den?” Thalvar asked.

  “Roxthar is a dangerous man, but like most men of narrow vision he only sees what he wants to see. I also suspect he needs allies, Highpriest Phymoth admitted as much to me before we left Cythor City. Roxthar is much feared and hated by those of the Inner Circle in Balph. He needs our help as much as we need his, although he will not admit such.”

  “Maybe so, but the stories about his Investigation give me chills.”

  Any man who can intimidate the Baron is worth meeting in the flesh, he thought. “I need the archpriest’s backing if my plan is to work. I suspect seeing this much wealth outside the Temple’s grasp bothers him as much as it does me. He can be used.”

  They dismounted and tied their horses to hitching posts outside the temple. He noted that most of them were free. At the door they were greeted by two of Styphon’s Own Guard and asked their business. He was irked by the fact that they treated him as an ordinary penitent.

  “Prince Simias, here to visit Archpriest Roxthar.”

  The guardsman stiffened, saying, “I will let the Archpriest know you are here, Your Highness. Please wait in the antechamber.”

  The antechamber was dominated by a golden statue of Styphon over three rods tall and was almost empty except for three under-priests in black robes. There was a bejeweled mosaic showing Styphon’s descent from his Sky-Palace and lots of gold and silver ornamentation.

  The Baron leaned over, whispering, “Is that statue plated or made of solid gold?”

  He answered sotto voce, “It’s plated, like the temple roof.”

  Baron Thalvar nodded with a gleam in his eye.

  A man after my own heart. One day, when we’re strong enough and have milked the Temple for enough gold, I’ll teach these arrogant priests a lesson—if I have to ally myself with Kalvan himself. A brilliant general and statesman; the first thing Kalvan does upon conquering a new territory is pull down all of the Styphon’s House temples and melt their domes for the gold. Kalvan is said to have assayed each dome at more than fifty thousand gold ounces!

  Simias all but rubbed his hands at the prospect of such easy gain.

  After an exasperating wait of around a quarter-candle, a white-robed priest with bloodstains on his robe entered the chamber. “Your Highness, the Holy Investigator has finished his work. He will meet with you now. Please, follow me.”

  The Baron started to rise.

  “Please stay, Your Lordship. The Archpriest only agreed to see yo
ur Prince.”

  The white-robed Investigator led him through a series of passageways, then down a stone stairway into the lower bowels of the temple. They could hear the distant echoes of high-pitched screaming; whether it be man or woman was impossible to ascertain.

  “Please excuse the noise, Your Highness, but one becomes accustomed to it after a while.”

  The priest led them around another corner and into a small cell. Inside was Archpriest Roxthar, wearing a white robe with Styphon’s device in black over the breast, sitting on a small stool. His hands and arms were covered with blood up to his elbows. Simias had heard many stories about the Archpriest but had never seen him before, even when they were both in Agrys City. He was a tall man with a narrow, almost wolf-like face.

  Roxthar’s eyes were the most frightening, they were lit from behind like rubies in firelight. He did not look pleased to see Simias. “You’d better have a good reason for keeping me from Styphon’s Work.”

  His voice gave Simias chills. He decided that the best way to handle the Archpriest was to be direct. “Your Holiness, I have come as the High Marshal of the Union of Styphon’s Friends. We have a traitor in our midst.”

  Roxthar’s ears actually appeared to perk up. “Who is this vile creature? Do I know him?”

  “Prince Varion, Your Holiness, overlord of this very city and the Princedom of Kryphlon. He is in cahoots with the League of Dralm.”

  “What is your proof?”

  “Look around you, it is everywhere. There are the temples and shrines to Dralm and Yirtta all over this city and throughout the princedom. I have asked him, even Highpriest Asmestros has asked him, to destroy them in the name of Styphon. Varion refuses, saying it’s up to his people as to which temple they worship at. It is even said that he visits the Temple of Dralm himself. Your Holiness, what more proof do you need?”