Kalvan Kingmaker

by John F. Carr

  Althea saw one captain try to organize a counter-attack and put an arrow through the eyehole of his helm, knocking him backwards off his horse. The dirtmen were beginning to stall and the constant deluge of arrows was thinning the enemy ranks. She saw one light cavalryman with a leather jerkin, who had so many arrows sticking out of him he looked like a porcupine as he fell out of his horse. Arrows pierced many of the armored men and some of them had five or six wounds, leaking blood. She smiled fiercely as Headman Hyphos faced down a charging iron hat and grabbed his lance with his hand, upending the horseman.

  Then she heard a sound like that of thunder, but different from that of the firesticks. Hundreds of her archers were knocked down or pitched out of their saddles. She pushed her way though the milling men, hitting them with her bow. "Keep shooting!"

  There was another thunder clap and hundreds more dropped. Now the iron hats were reforming. Althea had to see what was happening to her army. Something sharp parted her hair and for a moment she was blind as blood filled her eyes. Ignoring the pain, she used her sleeve to wipe her eyes. Her archers were completely disorganized now. Many had turned their mounts and were fleeing back to safety. Others milled around like sheep caught in the open and surrounded by a wolf pack.

  Althea looked up the hill and saw several hundred dismounted cavalrymen with the firesticks that Sargos called arquebuses. But these weren't the usual firesticks that had to be right next to a target to hit it. She doubted that her strongest archers could match the range of these 'new' terrible firesticks.

  As another thunderclap sounded and cleared saddles by the score, Althea gave the order to sound retreat! It was time to disengage from the enemy and find Sargos to tell him about these new firesticks before they surprised him, too.

  IV

  Warlord Sargos had just sliced the arm off a Hostigi soldier with his bat-tleaxe, when he saw Althea—her face bloody—riding toward him. His heart almost stopped beating until he realized that it was dried blood, not fresh. "What news do you bring?"

  Althea looked down to avoid his eyes.

  "What happened to your archers?" He knew in his heart the news was bad because she would have never left them otherwise.

  She looked up. "Kalvan's men hit us with far firesticks. They shot my army apart, far beyond even our arrows range. I had the horns blown rather than see our archers die like puppies in a bag tossed into the river."

  Sargos said, "You have done all anyone could. We are losing ground here, too. Kalvan's big fire tubes are butchering our warriors. Right before Sargos' eyes, one of the chariots took a direct hit from a cannon ball, snowing the clansmen with splinters.

  He saw a big chunk heading their way and shoved Althea out of her saddle. Then something hard hit Sargos' head and before he could react the world turned pitch black.

  V

  Captain-General Harmakros hastily pulled on his high-combed helmet. The battle of the two kings had changed dramatically in the last half candle. The Mounted Rifles had taken a terrible toll on the archer cavalry and after half a dozen volleys the archers had left the field. That allowed their heavily battered Rathoni allies to reform and re-join the main battle downhill, which had already changed momentum following the arrival of Alkides Flying Batteries. Using case shot, the guns had scythed through the horde, killing thousands and putting even more to flight. He had watched in amazement as entire troops disappeared and war chariots were blown into kindling.

  Harmakros gave marching orders for the rest of the reserve and then mounted his horse and left to join the waiting Mounted Rifles. He noticed that his pipe was still clenched between his teeth, and when he removed it from his mouth he saw that the he'd almost bitten through the stem.

  Harmakros spurred his horse on. He might have missed the battle's main course, but he was determined to get his share of the table scraps!

  VI

  Kalvan knew the tide of battle had turned for good, when he saw there were no nomads within pistol shot. Already the nomad army was breaking up and scattering to the wind. His soldiers and Nestros' were gearing up for the chase and slaughter to follow; soon it would be time to give the order to the horn blowers to sound a halt.

  As Kalvan and his Lifeguard were maneuvering between the dead horses and piles of bodies, he spotted two soldiers, one a clansman the other a Rathoni soldier, pinned together in an eternal embrace by crossbow bolts. The battle was still in force, although on this part of the battlefield it had evolved into a hundred small desperate actions—each one a life and death struggle to the participants, even though the main battle of the horde had broken. The Urgothi were similar to the early Germanic tribesman, who faced the Roman legions; they often chose an honorable death over capture and possible imprisonment—or slavery. Having seen more than his share of Styphon's Temple farm slave pens, Kalvan didn't blame them.

  One figure drew Kalvan's eye. In the midst of a mound of dead bodies five or six high and surrounded by Nestros' men-at-arms, stood the largest soldier Kalvan had ever seen here-and-now—bigger even than Rylla's big bodyguard Xykos. Kalvan had thought Duke Mnestros was big—if this giant wasn't seven feet tall, he was six foot, eleven inches. The giant Urgothi, with his winged conical helmet and a blond walrus mustache, looked as if he'd just stepped out of a Viking dragonship.

  The giant, and eight or nine other warriors wearing the same winged helmets, were grouped around a Raven Banner that Kalvan identified as belonging to Warlord Sargos. These winged warriors must be part of Sargos' personal bodyguard, thought Kalvan. He had heard that Sargos was 'blessed' with visions from the Raven Goddess. If Kalvan remembered correctly, the Viking berserkers often made sacrifices to their Crow Goddess. He motioned to his Lifeguard to follow behind and made his way carefully over the littered battlefield on his borrowed horse.

  At almost the same moment, a company of Mounted Rifles led by Colonel Democriphon, rode up to the battling warriors. The tableau froze, friend and foe alike, when the Mounted Riflemen aimed their rifles at the battling Urgothi.

  Everyone on the battlefield has seen those rifles in action and knew that death was in the air. The fighting stopped and Nestros' heavy infantry began to pull back. The giant Viking laughed and held up his huge sword and began to twirl it in circles above his head in preparation for the berserker death charge.

  "HALT!" Kalvan shouted.

  Everyone paused, including the giant berserker. "The battle is over."

  One of the riflemen started to aim his rifle, but the flat of Democriphon's sword blade knocked it aside. "Don't try that again, or it'll be your head. That was your Great King!"

  The giant looked back and forth, between the two men, his lungs laboring like bellows. Then he lowered his sword and sunk the point into the muddy loan. "If I am to surrender, let it be to a real King." He nodded to Kalvan.

  Kalvan rode over, his Lifeguard crowding him like mother hens. The other winged warriors had set down their axes and swords.

  When Kalvan rode up within arms distance, the giant bowed his head and said, "I will surrender, but first I must know the name of the man who saved my life."

  "I am Great King Kalvan of Hos-Hostigos."

  "Your fame has traveled far, Great King Kalvan. I offer you my sword." Even before his Lifeguard could draw a breath, the giant had reached over, drawn his sword blade out of the ground and, in a magician-like maneuver, flipped it in the air so that the sword hilt, not the blade, landed in Kalvan's hands. The sound of breaths being drawn in and then suddenly released in relief sounded all around him.

  Kalvan's hand felt as if it had just been hit with a bat, but he didn't blink.

  The giant watched and then smiled. In a thick Trygathi accent, he said, "Yes, this King is worthy of respect. I am Vanar Halgoth. Someday I will fight at your side."

  Kalvan nodded his head. "Vanar Halgoth, I would be honored to count you among my warriors and as a friend. If you give your word, not to try and escape or harm my soldiers, I will grant you parole."

 
"You have my word as a man and my honor as a disciple of the Raven Hag of War."

  Kalvan turned to Colonel Democriphon, "Give parole to any one of Sargos' Bodyguard that give their oath. These are honorable men."

  Halgoth turned to his warriors and rattled off a speech in Urgothi. After each one held his hand over his chest, the giant turned and said, "They give their word."

  Kalvan nodded. "Follow this man, Colonel Democriphon. He will take you where you can get your wounds treated and find food."

  Kalvan looked back at the battlefield and turned to Colonel Krynos, saying, "It's time to end this slaughter. Sound the horns!"

  Krynos raised his saber, the prearranged signal, and the great Zarthani horns sounded a loud melancholy bellow. The Royal Army's advance came to a quick halt. Nestros' men, on the other hand, acted as if they hadn't heard the horns and started after the tribesmen. Kalvan had prepared for this eventuality and gave Colonel Krynos an order for General Alkides.

  Meanwhile, Kalvan worked his way over to his King Nestros, who was still fighting a body of nomads. His bodyguards had to wield pistol butts and the flat side of their swords to get their Rathoni allies out of their Great King's way.

  Although Kalvan knew the best advice on the battlefield was to prepare for the unexpected, the sight of his Royal Page mounted on a huge black destrier—that would have done King Nestros proud—and pushing his way through Nestros soldiers with his sword raised—was one that caused him to rein his horse to a dead stop. Aspasthar's face broke into a smile as he spotted his king and rode determinedly to his Great King's side.

  "Prince Ptosphes sent me, Your Majesty!" the page said quickly.

  Kalvan bit back a sarcastic reply and said, "What news do you bring, Aspasthar?"

  "They've captured the Warlord! He has a bad head wound. I think he's going to die!"

  "Take me to him."

  Moments later the air was split by the sound of half a dozen cannons simultaneously firing round shot over the heads of the Rathoni Army. In the moment of absolute silence that followed this unexpected display, the horns bellowed again. This time the Rathoni Army came to an abrupt halt.

  VII

  Ranjar Sargos awoke with the sense that a blacksmith was driving a chisel into the side of his head. He stifled a groan and tried to reach for the pain. It was then Sargos discovered his hands were bound.

  Before he could voice his outrage, he heard Althea's voice cry out, "Is this honor—to treat a warrior like a rebellious slave?"

  He tried to agree with her words. From the blank looks on the faces around him, he suspected he had croaked like a frog.

  Althea shouted and cradled his head in her lap. He noticed a bloodstained bandage on her head and remembered the wound she had taken at her hairline.

  A face Sargos remembered thrust itself forward, and the others gave way to either side. It was the last face he had seen before the chariot had been hit, when what seemed a thunderbolt crashed into the side of his head and flung him from the saddle.

  "Ranjar Sargos! I am King Nestros. Who has bound you?"

  "No one, Your Grace," a gray bearded man said.

  "Captain-General Mylissos, he did not bind his own hands!" snarled the man, who must be King Nestros. Nestros drew a fine, if somewhat mud-specked dagger, from his riding boots, knelt and cut Sargos' bonds with his own hands.

  "I trust your honor as I would my own or Great King Kalvan's," Nestros said. "You led your men most valiantly to the end, but the gods' favor was not with you. Yet if you are willing, you may win more in defeat than you could have gained by victory."

  Althea said, "Only the gods could turn our defeat into a victory, and I see none on this field."

  Sargos shook his head; it seemed to Sargos that King Nestros was talking in riddles. Beyond him a tall man in fine armor stood, smoking a pipe and nodding slowly. What victory could come out of such a loss as this? His mouth felt as though it were full of ashes and his head banged like a drumhead being beaten upon by one of Tymannes medicine men.

  "Kalvan?" Sargos asked, pointing toward the man smoking a pipe. Nestros nodded.

  So they have both come to gloat. No, that is not true. Nestros was truly angry with those who dishonored me.

  "I have fallen, and doubtless those around me," Sargos said. "That does not mean victory for you or defeat for me."

  Althea, who stood tall and proud as ever, nodded her agreement with his words.

  "Your men from here to the redoubt are trapped against the Lydistros River," Kalvan said. "The rest are fleeing. We have let them go in peace. We still could pursue them, as wolves pursue rabbits."

  Sargos turned his head slowly to Althea. "Is this true?"

  She nodded. "The horde has broken. Kalvan shot his cannon at his own troops to stop their advance! I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He is a man of his word."

  King Kalvan moved closer, saying, "Warlord Sargos, if you will sit down with us and discuss peace, We shall continue to hold our pursuit and spare your warriors. Otherwise, the Sastragath and the Sea of Grass alike will be lands of widows and orphans."

  If he lies, he does so well. Althea can be trusted, but she may be hostage to my life. She would lie to save me. If Kalvan is telling the truth, he can be trusted… But I must see for myself.

  Sargos tried to rise. He not only failed, but also would have fallen if Nestros and Kalvan both had not aided him.

  To take healing from one's enemies is a sign of submission. Yet if submitting will save those who swore to follow me…?

  "Can you summon a healer and a horse? If I see with my own eyes what you have told me, then we shall talk." Althea came to him offering her shoulder as a crutch.

  The two kings nodded as if their heads were on a single neck.

  VIII

  Kalvan stepped out of the royal tent and nearly stumbled over Aspasthar. The boy woke up with a squeak of panic.

  "Your Majesty!"

  "Aspasthar, sleeping on watch is still a serious offense. Even after doing so well in your first battle."

  "Your Majesty, I beg forgiveness. But my father came by and said he would watch in my place. He—" A rumbling snore interrupted the page.

  Kalvan looked into the shadows on the other side of the tent door and saw Harmakros curled up under a blanket, even more soundly asleep than his son. Making sure that the armed sentries were all in place, Kalvan ducked back into his tent, burrowed into his piled baggage, and came out with a jug of Ermut's Best.

  By the time he came out his unofficial 'sentries' were awake. "Thanks for coming, both of you," Kalvan said. "I feel like celebrating, but I didn't want to drink alone."

  "What about our friend and ally, Great King Nestros?" Harmakros asked.

  "Please," Kalvan said. "Remember when I said it was all over but the shouting? I didn't know what I was saying. A discreet whisper for both Nestros and Sargos is what you would use for drilling a whole regiment! I'd be as deaf as a gunner if we had any more private sessions. But, Dralm be blessed, this was the last one!"

  "Then we have an alliance?"

  "Signed, sealed and about to be delivered to Grand Master Soton. Ranjar Sargos is no fool. The Zarthani Knights are the hereditary enemies of the Sastragathi. He'll fight them rather than anyone else if he has half a chance of victory. We are giving him much more than that."

  "And the nomads?"

  "Those sworn to Warlord Ranjar Sargos will follow us. The rest have a moon half to either join us or leave the Great Kingdom of Hos-Rathon. Nestros would like to make it a moon quarter, but he'll swallow hard and accept."

  "I imagine most men would swallow a lot more, to be a Great King."

  "Likely enough. "Being a Great King must be the dream of everyone who doesn't know what a headache it is! Not to mention aches in other places. Kalvan couldn't recall having been out of the saddle for more than twenty minutes at a time from dawn until dusk. He could recall the fields three-deep in dead men and horses, and worse, thos
e who weren't yet dead. He didn't want to recall them, but they had glued themselves to his memory.

  Kalvan uncorked the jug and passed it to Harmakros. As the brandy gurgled, Kalvan added, "Even with what we have in hand now, we'll be leading a hundred thousand men south. That should be a real headache for our friend Soton, and no aspirin for it either!"

  "Aspirin?"

  "An alchemy potion from my homeland. Willowbark tea has the same effect, but it's not as strong. Good for the headaches we'll surely have if we finish this jug."

  "I'll gladly take the burden on myself, Your—"

  "Hand that jug over, Harmakros, that is, if you don't want to be charged with treason.

  THIRTY FIVE

  I

  Great Queen Rylla was going over the requisition forms for the Royal Granary, when she heard a knock at the study door. Her lady-in-waiting Lady Eutare entered with a curtsy, "Your Majesty, Prince Phrames requests an audience. I know it's late, but he has just arrived from Tarr-Beshta!"

  Rylla welcomed the interruption from the endless order writing that her husband had set in motion with his invention of paper. She longed for the days when her father gave orders and they were simply carried out, or not, and a courtier informed them of the problem.

  She was definitely curious as to what had brought Phrames all the way from Beshta. Had Captain-General Phidestros finally begun to take the Royal Harphaxi Army—a polite term for the half-ragged gaggle of Harphaxi misfits and youngest sons, who had survived the Battle Chothros Heights—outside the gates of Harphax City ?

  Before her gods-sent-husband, had arrived to save the small princedom of Hostigos from its enemies, Prince Phrames had been her betrothed. Their marriage had been arranged at childhood; it had not been a bad match. They had always been good friends; although, admittedly, Rylla had never felt the magnetic attraction to Phrames she had felt instantly toward her husband. Somehow—and she was sure it was due to Phrames' good heart—they'd remained friends, even after her marriage. On several occasions she had introduced him to good marital prospects, but he never seemed interested. Until he met Lady Eutare—she wondered if his real reason for traveling to Hostigos was an assignation.