Siege of Tarr-Hostigos k-4

by John F. Carr

Xykos led the way down the narrow keep stairway, while Kalvan fought his initial irritation at being nursemaided once again. He was the critical man in a bad situation and nothing was going to change that until either his University started turning out graduates by the hundreds, or Styphon's House fell.

  In the Great Hall half a dozen blood-soaked bodies were stretched out, one or two still moving. Just let Thalmoth be alive and I'll wrestle Styphon himself.

  In the bailey he met a powder-blackened and bloodstained, but apparently unhurt, General Thalmoth being helped by two soldiers. "Are you all right?"

  "Curse and blast it! Oh, Your Majesty! I'm fine, but my gun isn't. Must have been an air pocket in the barrel. To Styphon with whoever poured that gun! Where's Captain-General Harmakros?"

  "Harmakros?" Kalvan asked.

  "Yes, he was with me a minute ago. Then the gun blew and threw me like a bit of wadding cloth. Allos, where are you?"

  A thin man with a powder-darkened face ran up to the General. "What is it, General Thalmoth?"

  "Find Harmakros for me."

  "I saw him back at the courtyard. He was badly hurt and they were carrying him to the Infirmary next to the stables."

  "Follow me, Your Majesty. To the stables."

  Kalvan felt his insides drop. Not Harmakros! His friend, confidant, and finest general. He pushed his way through the crowd of soldiers to the gate leading to the outer courtyard. Xykos and the Queen's Beefeaters followed close behind.

  II

  Prince Eudocles, newly elevated to First Prince of Zygros since his nephew had died, was angry-very angry-far angrier than Count Sestembar could remember for a very long time. The Prince was pacing back and forth before the flames shooting out of the large hearth, slamming his big fist into the palm of his left hand again and again. "Tell me again what this canker from my privy parts said about me!"

  "He said you had Prince Pariphon murdered so you could steal your brother's throne. And other words about how his blood was sick with the fester devils of your ambition." Sestembar had invented a number of vile insults, the better to part father and son. Someday he wanted the personal pleasure of ending Phidestros' life.

  "You have been ill used, my friend. Are you sure it was Phidestros who broke your arm?"

  "Yes, Your Grace. He grabbed it and snapped it like a twig. He is preternaturally strong. Said he would do even worse should your person ever visit Harphax City."

  "Now this happens, just when everything was going so well. It is good that no one but yourself knows he is the sport of my loins. Were he to be making such accusations in Zygros City it would be worth his life!"

  "He threw the saddlebag of gold to his men as if it were clothes off a beggar's back."

  "I'm sure his chests are filled with Styphon's gold ingots. Now we know it's the highest bidder who owns his loyalty. Phidestros' temper will cost him, and his liege lord, more than they know. Had he received you with grace it had been my intention to send him ten companies of horse and twice that of foot for the war against King Kalvan upon your return. Now, he shall receive nothing of his patrimony except my fist in his face when next we meet!"

  "I can hardly believe Great King Sopharar would have committed so many soldiers to the Styphoni Army." Ambition, pride and anger were Eudocles' weaknesses, and Sestembar knew better than anyone how to fire these charges. It took all the Count's will power to keep a smile from breaking his lips. Kalvan's agents would pay well for this night's work!

  "At this moment, my grief-addled brother would sign any parchment brought before his hand, just to quickly free his hand so that it is able to wipe the tears that continue to flow from his eyes." Eudocles snorted as if he couldn't believe what he had seen. "Maybe some night he will drown in all his tears-it would be a boon for Hos-Zygros!

  "As for my false son, I renounce him for all time and any claim he shall make upon my person or the Ivory Throne of Hos-Zygros! So I swear to the Twelve True Gods."

  III

  Lysandros exerted his iron will to quench the anger that burned in his veins, while his hands clenched and unclenched at the side of his chair- out of sight. Archpriest Phyllos continued blathering, blissfully unaware of how close he was to having his neck snapped. When Phyllos finally paused to take a breath, Lysandros interjected, "Am I to understand that the Inner Circle is now telling me who is in command of my army?"

  The Archpriest shrugged. "I apologize for contradicting you, Your Majesty, but this army is Styphon's Grand Host. It is our gold which is financing this crusade, and it is the Union of Styphon's Friends which comprises the majority of its forces. Thus, it was decided by the Speaker that it would be in everyone's best interest to have a unified command under one general. Captain-General Phidestros was selected by both Grand Master Soton and Speaker Anaxthenes as the best candidate."

  As if that should settle the question for once and for all, but what about me, you arrogant imbecile? he shouted silently. It had been his plan from the beginning to command the Grand Host himself; after all, while Kalvan had Captain-Generals at his beck and call, it was the Usurper who commanded his force-not some jumped-up mercenary captain. To Styphon with the lot of them!

  It was his late brother's fault he was in this mess, having to feign humility and piety toward a false god and clutch of priests who weren't worth the fireseed it would take to blow them to Regwarn and back! Kaiphranos the Timid had been everything a king should not be: weak, vacillating, fearful, and worst of all cheap. The only good to come of Kaiphranos' reign was the opportunity it had allowed a younger brother to emerge and take charge of the Royal Army, turning it into a force to be reckoned with despite the constant lack of funding.

  Unfortunately, he'd been forced to cut deals with Styphon's House to pay his troops and provide them with arms and fireseed. The Harphaxi Army hadn't been a great army, but it had been a good army. Until his brother had granted command to that Dralm-damned addlebrained Captain-General Aesthes and his brother's idiot son, Prince Philesteus, who'd at least had the grace to die on the battlefield with the flower of Harphaxi nobility!

  With Lysandros in command, the Grand Host would not only have defeated the Usurper Kalvan and restored the lost lands to Hos-Harphax, but would have had an opportunity to annex new lands in Hos-Agrys. Under the guise of punishing King Demistophon for not supporting the Grand Host and for permitting the League of Dralm to continue to meet, he would have annexed large chunks of Agrysi territory.

  Lysandros ran through a string of vile curses. This plan could not be undertaken unless he was in command of the Grand Host. He didn't trust Phidestros to follow orders that might go against the wishes of Grand Master Soton. He'd picked the young mercenary because he'd mistakenly thought Phidestros would be easier to bully than those captains with experience and reputations.

  Over the years he'd learned to use Styphon's House to further his own ends, even if it had meant bowing and scraping to morons like Phyllos and his predecessor, and pretending a piety that he never felt. As Great King of a shattered Hos-Harphax, Lysandros needed the Temple more than ever, first to re-build the decimated Royal Army and now to fight the Usurper and restore his rightful lands. At long last, all that was about to change. The moment Kalvan was defeated, Lysandros' autonomy from Styphon's House would begin. He might use the Investigation as his lever, but if he had to, he'd manufacture some act of treason or treachery and declare Styphon's House anathema. Then it would be his turn to loot the gold from Styphon's House's temples and banking houses.

  Now that he'd been told he would not be allowed to be in command of the Grand Host it was time to pick a new commander for the Harphaxi Royal Army, one who would be obliged to him-not Styphon's House. He would not allow Phidestros the luxury of twin commands. He'd already promised the mercenary far too much already-the Princedoms of Beshta and Sashta. It was galling enough that he would have to count the mercenary among his Princes, but even more so to know that his loyalty could not be purchased. The real question was: would those lands
and his title be enough to staunch Phidestros' ambition?

  If the mercenary dared to oppose him, he could crush him like a spider underfoot. He was thinking about how much he would enjoy scraping Phidestros off his boot, when the Archpriest interrupted his thoughts with a question.

  "Your Majesty, His Divinity, Styphon's Voice, believes it would be a fine display of your devotion to Styphon were you to 'require' the nobles of Harphax City to attend devotions at the High Temple each morning. Can we depend upon you to post a notice to this effect in the public square?"

  "I believe it is up to each man to seek his own manner to display his faith to which ever of the true gods he believes will help him in his this life. Already there are too many voices in the City that say I favor Styphon's House over the other gods. To please His Divinity, Styphon's Voice, I have closed several of Allfather Dralm's temples. However, I stop short of telling my subjects which of the Twelve True Gods each must worship."

  The Archpriest looked as if he'd just bitten into a crabapple. "I will relay your response to Balph, where I fear it will not be happily received."

  Lysandros kept a smile of triumph from appearing on his face. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He was not going to allow the Inner Circle to continue dictating to him as they did to Great King Cleitharses-not now that he was Great King of Hos-Harphax!

  IV

  The University Hospice was filled with the cries of the wounded and the dying. Kalvan fervently hoped Harmakros was not among the latter. The room reeked of brandy and burning pitch.

  The cots were filled with men burnt black by gunpowder and reddened by blood.

  Uncle Wolf Tharses saw him and cried, "It's the Great King. Make way for King Kalvan!"

  Kalvan was pleased to see the head Uncle Wolf working on Harmakros, but his stomach turned when he came close enough to see the remains of Harmakros' left leg. The Captain-General's face was as white as the snow outside. Kalvan wished he'd thought more about making some kind of primitive blood transfusion device. It was too late now.

  He turned to Tharses. "Have you kept his bandages clean?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty," the old Uncle Wolf said, looking insulted. "I know your lectures on the fester devils by heart. We have clean bandages and plenty of distilled spirits of wood as an antiseptic-isn't that the correct word?"

  "Yes," Kalvan said, feeling abashed. "I'm sorry, Tharses. I don't mean to act like an old woman, but Harmakros is a friend. And I'm very worried. I need him; the Kingdom needs him."

  Tharses face softened. "We will do the best for Harmakros. He has many good friends in Hostigos. I will see that he lives to kill more Styphoni!"

  Harmakros' eyelids fluttered and then opened. "I need a spot of brandy, Kalvan."

  "Of course." Before Kalvan could give the order Xykos had a flask in his hand.

  "Kalvan… I…" Harmakros raised his head and Kalvan gave him a quick sip of brandy. His body shivered but there was a smile on his face. "Cold… so cold. I needed that."

  "Want another?"

  "No… not for a bit. I just wanted to ask you a favor. Well, just in case."

  "Go ahead! Anything you want, friend. Does it hurt?"

  Harmakros made a grimace. "Only when I think about it. Actually, I don't feel anything below the knee. It's all right. I saw the leg… before." Harmakros fell back against the cot and began breathing heavily. "Wait… please, don't go… not till I catch my breath."

  "I'll stay by you, Harmakros. Don't worry. Maybe another short pull."

  This time instead of trying to pour the brandy to Harmakros' mouth, Kalvan took a clean bandage and soaked it with the brandy, putting the cloth into Harmakros' mouth.

  "Just like being back in the crib," Harmakros wheezed, and then caught his breath. "I must ask a boon of you, Your Majesty."

  "Ask away, old friend. Anything you want that is mine will be yours. Just tell me what you want?"

  "It is… my son, Aspasthar. I want you to take care of him like your own son if I… well, if I don't get better."

  "Consider it done. I'll make him a Royal Ward and someday he'll be a nobleman."

  Harmakros smiled. "Thank you, My King. The boy is rough around the edges, but he means well. He needs a bit more tempering, that boy."

  "I know. You've given him a lot to live up to."

  "But not too soon…"

  "He'll be fine after a tour with the Royal Army."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that, because sometimes I'm… not, not so sure… Ahhh!"

  Kalvan turned to see the Uncle Wolf cutting off the last of Harmakros' breeches. When Kalvan looked back, his friend was out cold.

  "I want to speak with you before you cut off the leg, Master Tharses."

  The Uncle Wolf nodded. He directed one of his assistants to clean the leg and motioned Kalvan to the foot of the cot.

  "How bad is it?"

  "The Captain-General, he's lost a lot of blood, Your Majesty. There is no way we are going to be able to save the leg. It must come off. I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

  "Legs can be replaced with wood and steel. What I want to know is whether or not he's going to survive the amputation."

  "Maybe. He's a strong man, our Captain-General. And he has the will to live, which he's going to need."

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty. Please wait out in the ante-chamber while we saw off the leg."

  "I'll leave. I'd just be in the way here." Kalvan bent over to feel Harmakros' forehead: no fever, but he was still warm.

  Out in the antechamber, he finished off Xykos' flask and asked the burly Captain of the Guards if he had another. He did, and the two of them made short work of it. The wait was interminable but Kalvan stopped himself from asking for another flask. He would get good and drunk when he knew how Harmakros was doing, be it wake or celebration.

  Finally the plank-door opened and Master Tharses, his thin gray hair plastered to his skull with sweat, came out.

  "How is he?"

  "The leg is off and the wound is cauterized. He never felt a thing."

  "He lives?"

  "Yes, Galzar be praised! I suspect it will take more than a burst gun to quench the Captain-General's spark."

  "Thank you, Tharses! You could have given me no better news." Kalvan turned to Xykos. "Lead me to the nearest tavern, for this day I want to get good and stinking drunk."

  A smile split the big man's face. "Better than that, Your Majesty, I know several good taverns."

  "To the first then!"

  EIGHTEEN

  As Archpriest Anaxthenes walked through the ante-chamber to Great King Nestros' audience room, Archpriest Heraclestros whispered, "Over there, that's Prince Ptosphes of Hostigos."

  The Prince, sitting stiffly in one of the marble seats, was making a determined effort not to be intimidated by the large delegation from Styphon's House: six highpriests, three archpriests and the commander of Styphon's Own Guard, High Marshal Xenophes. Prince Ptosphes was a dignified man of some fifty winters with a silver beard and heavily calloused hands. Sitting beside him was a white-haired man who looked like another former soldier, wearing the chain of chancellery, and a handsome young man with a princely crown, said to be Prince Phrames of Beshta.

  Interestingly enough, the party from the false kingdom of Hostigos had arrived a moon-quarter earlier, but Great King Nestros seemed to have gone to great lengths to ensure that both parties would meet before his chambers today. Was this an attempt to intimidate him, or the Hostigi? Maybe Nestros was trying to bargain more concessions from the Hostigi and thought that by letting his party into the King's chambers first, the Hostigi would be willing to increase their earlier offers? From the scowl on Prince Ptosphes' face, he was willing to bet that stratagem would fail.

  King Nestros was seated upon a throne big enough for two men-big but crude, like his capital, Rathon City. Nestros was a tall, powerfully-built man with ash-colored hair and a well-trimmed beard in the Northern Kingdoms' style.
Unfortunately, his attempt at sophistication was undone by his under-slung chin and puppy dog eyes.

  After the lengthy introductions and formal proceedings were finished, Anaxthenes decided the best way to answer Nestros' insult was to address it directly. "Upon Our arrival for a private audience with Your Majesty, We noticed that the emissaries for the Usurper Kalvan and False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos are present and awaiting an audience as well."

  Nestros squirmed in his seat. "Well… yes, the Hostigi ambassadors arrived earlier to negotiate an alliance between Hos-Hostigos and Hos-Rathon. We have had several meetings and We are giving their offer serious consideration after taking into account their help against the nomads and Sastragathi tribesmen last spring."

  Not so serious that you were willing to wait a moon-quarter to see what we might offer, Anaxthenes thought. "I did not know that the Usurper now desires to extend his dominion into the Trygath. Kalvan's ambitions are legendary, but this effrontery is without precedent."

  Nestros face purpled. "Hos-Rathon is a mighty Kingdom, comprised of nine principalities all united under Ourself as one Great Kingdom. In territory, We have more cubits than Hos-Zygros and Hos-Bletha combined." Nestros continued in this vein, recounting all the glories of his new kingdom.

  Anaxthenes had to fight back a yawn.

  Nestros finished with, "We are Kalvan's equal-not his vassal."

  "Is that what the Usurper told you?" Highpriest Danthor asked, in a moderate tone of voice.

  "Well, no. But he has negotiated with Us in good faith and aided Us in our victory over the Warlord Ranjar Sargos."

  Anaxthenes nodded almost imperceptibly to Highpriest Danthor and he began speaking again. "Is this the Sargos who also now calls himself Var-Wannax, or Great King, of the Sastragath? The one who is now the Usurper's sworn ally?"

  "Yes, but-"

  Anaxthenes interrupted, "Now, looking into the future, say after the Usurper Kalvan defeats his rightful liege lord, Great King Lysandros of Hos-Harphax, what's to stop him from turning his army to the west against Rathon? I'm sure his good friend Wannax Sargos would love to annex part of your Kingdom-or split it with the Usurper. With strong allies to protect your flanks, this might be a matter of little concern. However, should you persist in this one-sided alliance with the Usurper, who calls himself a Great King, you could well lose your own throne to him or his ally, the self-proclaimed Great King of the Sastragath."