Gunpowder God

by John F. Carr

  Roxthar all but sizzled.

  Simias could feel the heat coming off his person, amplifying the stench raising off his robe.

  Roxthar choked out his words: “At the moment, my hands are tied by Grand Master Soton. I have given him my sworn-word not to do any Investigating within the borders of any princedom allied with the Union of Styphon’s Friends. This Varion and his heretical ways have truly heated my blood.”

  If you’re not doing any Investigating here, whose screams are echoing through these corridors? Simias decided wisely to keep that question to himself. “There may be a better way, Your Holiness.”

  Roxthar leaned forward on his stool, like a vulture about to gobble a choice piece of carrion. “And what would that be?”

  II

  Karoth Barg barged into Chief Dalla Hadron’s office without a by-your-leave. “Chief, here’s an update on the Shimmer Spire disaster.”

  Dalla winced. The Shimmer Spire, one of the largest apartment towers in Dhergabar and home to half a million citizens, had been A-bombed this morning. There was a recorded message on Tri-V from the PLF, Prole Liberation Front, claiming responsibility. Half of Dhergabar City had to be evacuated due to high radiation and the other half was on standby. Paratime Police HQ had been so bombarded with calls and messages that she’d ordered the entire system shut down except for Code Red transmissions.

  “What’s the latest, Karoth?”

  “A quarter of a million dead and less than a dozen survivors. Those being residents about to leave via one of the landing ports or the main landing stage. Everyone else is presumed dead, including over a million Proles. They don’t even care about their own kind, the bastards. The good news is that two-thirds of the citizens living there were out-time when the blast occurred.”

  The small atomic bomb had gone off in the early morning hours. It had been detonated on the bottom floor of the Shimmer Spire; the spire’s collapsed-nickel exterior walls had acted like a chimney, sending the sun-hot blast of plasma upward through three thousand floors vaporizing everything and everyone in its path. No living being inside that inferno could have survived.

  The explosion had reverberated throughout Dhergabar, as residents fled the City to escape the fallout and the possibility that other buildings had been sabotaged. Shelters across Home Time Line were filled to the bursting with evacuees from the capital city. Hospitals were overflowing from those with radiation sickness or heart attacks and other ailments related to the bombing. While there had been previous terror attacks by the PRL, this was the first nuclear one.

  There were political reverberations as well; many of the cities and towns refused to accept any Proles from Dhergabar and there was a growing call to ship all the dissidents to Fifth Level Industrial or Service Sector. The Executive Council was in Emergency Session attempting to come up with a solution to the growing Prole unrest. Dalla was scheduled to give a report in less than an hour to the Executive Council, which meant she had lots to prepare.

  “Plus, the PLF has released their demand,” Karoth said, pausing dramatically.

  “What is it?” Karoth was a hold-over from Verkan’s administration and, if she ever got any time, Dalla planned to have him replaced with someone less in love with their own voice.

  “The PLF demands Citizenship and longevity treatments for all Proles on Home Time Line and provisional Citizenship for all those on Fifth Level.”

  “Ludicrous and unacceptable!” Dalla blurted.

  Dalla was considered a liberal on the Prole Question since she’d gone so far as to adopt one, Zinganna, as a sister. However, even she realized there was no way that Home Time Line could make all Proles citizens, especially since they outnumbered citizens at better than ten to one on Home Time Line alone. The result would be political chaos as the former servants paid back real and imagined slights. To say nothing of the actual costs of giving tens of billions of new citizens a dole, housing, medical and longevity treatments. It would bankrupt the entire system, and that was just for starters….

  Only an Opposition Party member would welcome such a potential catastrophe. Not for the first time, Dalla wondered if they were actively behind the PFL.

  Maybe next time it’ll be the Paratime Building, she thought. “Karoth, I want radiation detectors as well as metal detectors placed on all entrances and landing ports on the Paratime Building. No one is to be admitted to the Building who isn’t in the Department or with the Dhergabar Metropolitan Police.”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “I’m expecting Metropolitan Police Chief Vothan Raldor; let me know when he arrives.”

  Secretary Karoth handed her a view wafer and quickly exited her office. Dalla put the wafer into the slot and watched the explosion on her viewscreen. The five mile-high tower on the screen rocked from the force of the atomic fire inside, even as most of the force and radiation was contained by the building’s collapsed-nickel walls. From a distance, it looked like a fireworks display as the top of the Shimmer Spire blew off and a huge flare lanced into the sky. The flame was so bright that it briefly turned the screen completely white despite all the camera’s special filters.

  As visibility returned, it was possible to see the other nearby towers and spires rocking back and forth as if caught in the throes of a major earthquake. This is where most of the injuries occurred outside the stricken spire, she thought. People, furniture, robots and appliances were tossed around like toys as the great towers rocked back and forth. The physical injuries were in the tens of millions, filling every hospital and medical facility on Home Time Line to the bursting.

  The political repercussions would be just as bad.

  She herself had been awakened in her apartment, at the Space Spire where she was thrown off her bed at 0244 in the morning. Her first thought had been “earthquake,” even though they were rare in this section of the Major Landmass, or what was called Europe on Fourth Level Europo-American. She had, however, experienced quakes while outtime.

  Karoth came bursting into her office again.

  “What is it now?” she asked, biting her tongue.

  “It’s Yadd’s The Day in Dhergabar show; you need to watch it!”

  She hit the button that turned on the wallscreen at the front of her office. Yandar Yadd’s supercilious face filled the screen. “What we should be asking ourselves is: How were the PLF able to smuggle an atomic weapon onto First Level? As we all know, it’s the Paratime Police who are responsible for protecting us from smuggling and outtime contraband, especially weapons. Obviously, the Paracops haven’t been doing their job.

  “This has been true for a number of years, ever since Verkan Vall took over from former Chief Tortha Karf. Things have gotten even worse under Verkan’s wife and replacement, Chief Dalla Tharn. I think it’s time the citizens of Dhergabar demanded some answers.” He paused to point his finger straight into Dalla’s face. “Chief Tharn, you owe it to the people of Dhergabar to tell the truth about what’s really going on.”

  Then he turned back to his audience. “Keep sending those messages and electronic letters to the Executive Council and maybe we will get some answers!”

  F⊕RTY

  I

  Captain-General Hestophes walked quickly up the stone steps leading to the Great Hall of Tarr-Eubros. This was the fourth council of war meeting called in the last moon. What new crisis has come to bite us on the arse? he asked himself. It was bad enough that he’d lost his artillery commander and two hundred good troopers a moon ago.

  Councils had been called to discuss princes not mustering all the men they promised, another was called regarding the death of Great King Sopharar and the last one had been an update on the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance—the first news on the size of Soton’s army had almost pulled the castle down. Some princes had wanted to leave to protect their princedoms, others wanted to leave immediately to fight Soton. They were still waiting for two princes, Prince Aesklos and Prince Kyphanes, and having problems obtaining enough victuals to feed t
he army and livestock for more than a quarter moon.

  Prince Thykarses was seated at the head of the long table with his son, Duke Mnestros to his right; Hestophes’ seat was to the Prince’s left. Primate Xentos, representing the Temple of Dralm, was seated at the foot. In between were five of the seven princes who comprised the Agrysi League of Dralm.

  After Xentos gave a short benediction, Prince Thykarses, whose beard had turned completely white over the winter, stood up. “One of our scouts just arrived with this dispatch. It appears the Union of Styphon’s Friends, who were wintering in Kryphlon, have crossed the border into Varthon and are now besieging Tarr-Kendreth.”

  “Styphon’s swine!” Prince Tyromanes jumped up. “I must leave now with my Army before all is lost.”

  “Hold it,” Xentos bellowed, rising his arms so that they were outstretched as if he were about to call down Dralm the Allfather himself. The hall was as quiet as a temple; it was disconcerting to hear such a loud bellow out of the white-robed old man. “Prince Tyromanes, if you leave the League with your army we will lose too many men and we will be unable to stop Soton and Styphon’s Host of Styphon’s Deliverance. We have two choices: We can either all move into Varthon and battle the army of the Union of Styphon’s Friends, which is what the Styphoni desire, or we can stay together united in our strength and face Soton’s Host together.”

  “It’s not your princedom that the Union is invading,” Tyromanes returned. “It is my land!”

  “You are not alone. My homes, Hostigos Town and Agrys City, were both overrun by Styphon’s House.” Xentos pointed to Hestophes. “Let your commander-in-chief speak.”

  Captain-General Hestophes rose up. “If we allow the army to fight each small action, we may win many minor battles, but we will lose the war.” He remembered Kalvan’s maxim of ‘wars waged in detail, are lost in the main.’ Still, in this case, if they defeated the Union’s army, they might be able to threaten to cut Soton off from his supply base in Agrys City. He knew they would have to do something before each prince went his own way and the League’s army shrank to next to nothing.

  “We must remain united if we are to stop Styphon’s Host.” Reliable intelligence had put the number of troops the Union could field at between sixteen and twenty thousand men, far more than the League currently had mustered. When the two absent princes arrived, they would muster close to twenty thousand men—twenty-five thousand men when the Hostigi from Nos-Hostigos arrived. “Once Prince Aesklos and Prince Kythanes arrive with their armies and the Hostigi reinforcements get here, we will be able to march to Varthon and force the Union to battle.”

  There was muttering all along the table.

  Prince Ptophlos, who was inordinately hostile to Hestophes, stood up and began to speak. “As I recall, you told us your King promised the League five thousand soldiers, Captain-General, so where are they?” he finished asking in a sneer.

  “They have a long way to travel. They should be here within a moon half.”

  “Should, what does that mean?” Prince Ptophlos continued. “What if they never come? How long must we wait for the phantom Hostigi to materialize out of the mist?”

  “Ptophlos has a point,” Prince Clytos said. “Last fall Glarth Town was annihilated and my Princedom lies in ruins. Shall we wait patiently here, for the Hostigi reinforcements, while Soton’s Host and the Union of Styphon’s Friends destroy our princedoms one at a time?”

  “No!” Prince Tyromanes cried out. “We must stop them in Varthon now or each one of us will lose our princedoms.”

  “Then what army will stop Soton?” Hestophes asked.

  “The Captain-General is right,” Duke Mnestros said. “We must stay together.”

  “For what?” Prince Bosphros of Kelos asked. “Unless the Hostigi contingent arrives to reinforce the League’s forces, Soton’s Host of Styphon’s Deliverance outnumbers the League’s forces more than three to one. My Princedom of Kelos adjoins Zcynos; maybe I should have remained there, like Prince Aesklos, instead of bringing my army here to this nest of incompetents. My lands will be in ruins long before we join the Host in battle. Each of us are better off protecting our own than dying for this folly that we have assembled.”

  The sad part was that Hestophes had to agree with Prince Bosphros. The League’s Army was inadequate; most of the soldiers in the princely armies had never fought in the Fireseed Wars and had no idea of what they were about to encounter. Those who had survived the debacle outside Agrys City had learned little. In far too many cases, their arms were old and barely in working order. Many of their soldiers were out-dated feudal levy or militia who were long past their youth. Their League’s artillery was a complete farce, mostly old hooped-iron bombards mounted onto carts. And, now that Grand-Captain Ranthos had left, he didn’t have a decent artillery captain to command their guns.

  The best firearms the League had were the ones Kalvan had sent last fall from the battlefield scrapings of the last few Hostigi victories. In addition, no one knew where the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance was heading. The last reports he’d received had said the army had left Agrys City during the rains. Were they following the Agrys River up through Cythor into Meligos, or did Soton have some other devilment in mind?

  The only army in worse shape was the Union of Styphon’s Friends, who—while they might be better outfitted thanks to Styphon’s paymasters—lacked even the League’s minimal training and experience in working together. Many of the Union’s princes were former enemies and would chafe at being under the same banner. Plus, if his intelligence was correct, the Union was shackled with Archpriest Roxthar’s Investigation whose stench was sure to rankle even the most ardent Styphoni supporters.

  Prince Ptophlos pulled out his dagger and stabbed it into the Council table. “I, for one, say that we should either break apart the Army, or all join together now and give the Union our retort with cold steel in Varthon.”

  Several of the princes banged on the table with the hilts of their daggers.

  “Enough,” Prince Thykarses demanded. “If we have not received word of the Hostigi reinforcements within the next moon quarter, we will appoint a new Captain-General and revise our strategy. Until then, we will prepare for the battle to come.”

  Hestophes didn’t like the sound of that. Still, he had no desire to lead this poor excuse of an army to its demise. His orders were to lead the League’s Army; if they fired him again, well, this time he would return to Thagnor with all his troops. And good riddance to the lot of them, except Prince Thykarses and Duke Mnestros.

  As the princes left the Great Hall, Primate Xentos came up to Hestophes. “The Allfather is displeased by the rancor of his sons. I will talk to them in private and tell them of his disappointment. But first, we must talk.”

  Hestophes kept his thoughts to himself. After the beating the Hostigi took at the Battle of Ardros and the Siege of Tarr-Hostigos, he had lost most of his faith in the gods. If indeed they existed, they had little concern for mankind. If they had such, the gods would have never permitted Styphon’s forces to conquer Hos-Hostigos, much less allow the Arch-Butcher’s Investigation. It was beginning to look as if Styphon’s House would triumph again, due to its own strength and the League’s many weaknesses.

  He followed Xentos into the Highpriest’s bedchamber, one that was as richly appointed as Prince Thykarses’ own quarters. Xentos sat down on a high-backed chair while he sat on a three-legged stool; he felt like a boy about to be lectured by his father.

  “Hestophes, as your priestly advisor, I must say that you lack certain diplomatic skills when dealing with our allies.”

  He shook his head. “Your Eminence, I am not a diplomat, even I know that. I’m a soldier and that’s what I do best.”

  The Primate nodded. “This is true. However, it is also true that you are a leader of men, or your soldiers would not follow you so willingly. You need to use more of that leadership with the League’s princes. You can’t talk to them directly, like your soldi
ers. You have to win them over to your way of thinking.”

  Hestophes dropped his head. Xentos was correct, but he was not used to dealing with so many fatuous princes, or royalty period. His parents were commoners and he’d been the same until Great King Kalvan had granted him a barony. Now that Hyllos was in the hands of the enemy, he didn’t know what he was other than a captain-general.

  “These princes have been coddled,” Hestophes explained, “for too long. I thought that by giving them plain speech rather than courtly patter and smooth talk that I could get them to realize how dire our situation has become.”

  “Unfortunately,” Xentos said, “as I’ve come to learn, most of the Agrysi princes have lived sheltered lives, compared to their contemporaries in Hos-Harphax. For the most part, Great King Demistophon left them to their own devices and pleasures, as long as the tax revenues arrived in a timely manner. Otherwise, Demistophon did not discipline them or interfere in their quarrels and disagreements so they are not used to taking orders. Nor have most of them done any fighting. You will have to tend to them as a shepherd tends his flock.”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “It is urgent that the League’s Army stops Styphon’s House in Hos-Agrys or the Temple of Dralm may well be doomed,” Xentos said grimly. “In large part, it’s my fault. I failed the Temple and the people of Hos-Hostigos by not demanding, as Primate of Dralm, that the League of Dralm throw its support behind Great King Kalvan.”

  Hestophes was taken aback; he’d never heard Xentos admit fault before. Even so, Xentos’ words were correct, he had indeed abandoned Hos-Hostigos in its hour of greatest need. There was no way to dress that up; it was the bald truth.

  Now it was time for some more truth. “You may be right, Your Eminence. The truth of the matter is, as I see it, the League of Dralm has very little chance of defeating the Host of Styphon’s Deliverance or stopping the Styphoni from taking over all of Hos-Agrys. So, you might want to leave for Thagnor City the moment the League’s forces depart from Eubros Town.”