The Fireseed Wars k-5

by John F. Carr

  Ranthos had tapped into his greatest worry. He suspected that Archpriest Roxthar was already setting up the Investigation of his lands while he was still in the field-it would be just like the white-robed murderer! Especially after he had insulted Roxthar over the woman Sirna, the Greffan healer. He'd put Captain Cythros in charge of Beshta, but he'd only been able to spare him a double-company.

  "So how can you help solve my problems?"

  "I don't expect you to trust me, or my men, right away. I'd suggest you send some of your own personal troops along to guarantee our loyalty. These Hostigi troopers, most of whom are deserters or men who could not join their Great King due to injuries, know what will happen to them if they are captured. So far, we've been lucky. But our numbers have grown so large that we have taken to ambushing the Investigation parties and wearing the armor and capes of the Red Hand. Still, sooner or later, we will be caught and called for an accounting."

  Phidestros could see the man made sense. He had heard rumors of missing Investigators; Archpriest Roxthar had demanded that he send regulars to search the hillsides for bandits and escaped Hostigi army units. So far, he'd been able to refuse. Captain Ranthos was not only audacious but clever as well. He had proved that merely by surviving in the present climate. The remaining question was: Is he useful and trustworthy?

  The big man made a flourish as if rolling all the bones in both hands. "So as you see, Your Highness, our time here is limited. In Greater Beshta we could help restore order to your lands, and-as you know-we have a vested interest in keeping the Investigation beyond your borders."

  Phidestros laughed. "You do at that!" He liked this blunt-speaking foreigner. If Kalvan had relied on him to protect his precious Royal Foundry, he must be of trustworthy character. And, it was also true, that Captain Cythros could use all the soldiers Phidestros could send to Greater Beshta to help hold his lands. The next question was: Why did Ranthos leave Kalvans service? "Why didn't you personally follow your overlord, King Kalvan, into retreat?"

  Ranthos smiled as if he'd been waiting for that question. "I was not oath-sworn as an officer of the Royal Army, but as a guard and advisor to the Foundry. My oath and duty ended when the Investigators arrived and killed my co-workers and burned the Royal Foundry to the ground. Of course, we sent some of the Red Hand as an escort to Galzar's Hall. Still, I was lucky to escape with my life."

  A good answer, thought Phidestros. He could also see why the Greffan captain might not want to report to Kalvan after leaving his post in ruins. It was also true that he needed more men he could trust in Beshta while he was on campaign. I can spare a company of the Iron Band to escort these new soldiers. The trick would be raising even more when they arrived.

  "How can you further my position in Greater Beshta?"

  "I can use my men to recruit all the former Hostigi soldiers left in Hos-Hostigos. As I'm sure you know, the entire populace is frightened near to death by this gods-cursed Investigation. As soon as we arrive, word will travel fast throughout the former princedoms of Hos-Hostigos and all the able-bodied men and women still remaining will speed to Beshta as iron filings to a magnet. By the time you return from your campaign, you will have hundreds, or even thousands, of new subjects who will die in your service to thwart the Unholy Investigator."

  "Your words not only make sense but are music to my ears. If you can include a few mapmakers among my new subjects, there will be a big purse of gold for you. To ensure your loyalty, I will make you baron of any barony in the former Princedom of Sashta you choose to be your demesne."

  Geblons mouth gaped.

  Ranthos bowed. "Your Highness is most generous. Your wisdom and leadership are even greater than I had been led to believe." He quickly oath-bound himself to Phidestros in the name of Galzar Wolfhead, God of War and Judge of Princes.

  Phidestros then swore Ranthos into the Beshtan Army as Grand-Captain.

  Once the oath-swearing was done, Kyblannos tapped him on the shoulder. "There is much I want to ask this Greffan about Kalvans Foundry."

  "You will have your candle, Kyblannos, after he has changed out of these garments. But, first, I have an assignment for our new Grand-Captain."

  "Yes, Captain-General."

  "As you've observed, the Investigation has killed many of our potential subjects; however, not all have been put to the question. Many have been sold into slavery and are bound for the slave markets in Hos-Harphax and Hos-Ktemnos."

  The look on Ranthos face would have made a lesser man quake. "I know," he said through gritted teeth.

  "Well, I think we can address at least this evil." Phidestros paused to spit on the floor. "I despise slavery in all of its guises. One of Kalvan's first acts as Great King was to outlaw it in Hos-Hostigos. I have always admired that as I have admired his highway and his mapmakers and farseers."

  Ranthos nodded. "He was a good ruler."

  "I agree." Both Geblon and Kyblannos paled.

  "Still, he is my sworn enemy and I will do my duty to kill him to the best of my ability, even if it means his death by my own hand."

  "Understood, Grand Captain-General."

  "Five large parties of slaves have left Hostigos Town in last quarter-moon. As you know, they will be moving very slowly."

  "Yes. I have seen slave trains before."

  "Your first order is to ambush as many of these slave parties as you can catch up with and free all the slaves. They will be under your protection until they arrive in Beshta. There you will find farms and housing for them."

  "What about the caravan drivers, guards and slave drivers?"

  "Kill them all-and their masters. Let none live. Those who traffic in human flesh have no honor. Death is too good for them."

  "With pleasure."

  "Now, if you don't mind, please satisfy Kyblannos' questions about the Royal Foundry."

  The Greffan bowed and followed behind the shorter but broader artillery general.

  After they left the room, Geblon asked, "What if he's lying?"

  "Kyblannos will know before an eighth of a candle. No one can dissemble about guns before our friend. No, Ranthos is our man. If I am wrong, it will be time for me to go before the Investigation for my usefulness as a commander of men is done."

  Geblon made a circle over his breast. "Please, do not joke about the Investigation again, my Captain. I would rather face Kalvan's guns unarmed than go before Roxthar's butchers. May Galzar bless and protect us all."

  II

  Sirna was still clutching her heart when General Geblon sent one of the girls to fetch her to the Captain-General's private chamber. Had Aranth Sain-obviously undercover as some sort of military type-told Phidestros who she was? She'd almost fainted when she turned toward the door and saw Aranth enter the Gull's Nest. Fortunately, he was preoccupied, or so she'd thought, but with First Level recall he could have been studying her surreptitiously and she would have never known.

  The last time she had seen Aranth, the Kalvan Study Team's Pre-mechanical Military authority, she had been eating dinner at the common table of the Royal Foundry quarters. Later that evening, when Styphon's Red Guard had attacked the Foundry, she'd heard him escape out the back door while the rest of the Team was butchered and she was knocked in the head and left for dead. While there was probably nothing Aranth could have done to help the others, his slipping out like a thief in the night had left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Was Aranth a coward? He certainly didn't act like one. In fact, she had always found him to be brave and resourceful. Sirna knew he hadn't liked any of the other members of the Team, but she had believed they were friends. Maybe that was what hurt-that Aranth had left her without even a warning, or without trying to help her escape.

  She wasn't even sure why she didn't want him to know that she was alive and living in the Gull's Nest. It wasn't because Aranth would have disapproved of her living conditions. They were both beyond Fourth Level superstitions and morality: the Home Time Line's outtime credo was: "Live well, and d
o whatever it takes to live long."

  Maybe Aranth thought he could survive a lot longer without having her to care for? Somehow that idea didn't make her feel one whit better. Maybe worse, when Sirna considered what could have happened to her had the peasant who had discovered her body dumped her off with one of Roxthar's Investigation squads. Or had taken advantage of her helplessness.

  She braced herself as she opened the door to the Captain-General's room.

  Phidestros was seated at his makeshift desk with his boots resting on the desktop, smoking his pipe. Even in his relaxed state he radiated a sensation, like the purr of a well-maintained machine, that he could go into active motion at a moment's notice.

  "You wanted to see me?"

  "Yes, Lady Sirna. Please close the door."

  Does he want to make love or question me? she asked herself. Despite her resolve not to get involved with an outtimer, loneliness and mutual attraction had brought them together. It was nice, but lately she hadn't been getting enough sleep. His appetite was much greater than her own.

  He must have read her expression, because Phidestros laughed, his mouth opening wide. "No, it's not what you think."

  Sirna blushed. "How do you know what I think?"

  "You're a very attractive Lady and I am not loathe to love-making during the day, but not while my men are awake. They sense what's going on, but prefer not to know it."

  She blushed again.

  Phidestros gave her a winning smile. "You've done Galzar proud as healer of my men. I owe you much for it-and not just gold. You're the best healer I've ever come across-and believe me I've known some quacks and leeches in my time! You are little sister to the Iron Band. The men of the Iron Band would rush to your aid on the slightest pretense. I prefer to maintain the fiction that we are just friends."

  Now, it was his turn to redden.

  She gave him a warm smile.

  Phidestros nodded and paused to pick up his tobacco pouch and begin filling his pipe bowl, which had been carved into a representation of Galzar in what looked to be ivory or whale's tooth. She remembered from her briefing that scrimshaw pipes were very popular in Hos-Zygros. He looked into her eyes, saying, "I've been remiss, would you like a goblet of wine or Ermut's Best?"

  Sirna shook her head; she needed all her wits to be focused.

  "This is not about you at all, Lady Sirna, but about one of your compatriots at the Foundry."

  "Who?" she asked, hoping that Aranth had not given her up.

  "I just met with a Captain Ranthos, who claims that he was a guard at the Royal Foundry of Hos-Hostigos. He served there, if he is to be believed, under the name of Captain Aranth. He has a shaved head and wears a large mustache. What do you know of him?"

  Sirna felt herself relax, exhaling the deep breath she'd been holding. "There was a Grefftscharrer Captain with the name of Aranth, who was one of the Foundry Guard captains and matches your description. He was also quite helpful in the Foundry and seemed to know a lot about artillery guns. It was his responsibility to test-fire the newly cast cannon. At the foundry, he had a full head of hair, but it might have been a wig. There was some talk that he had been picked by the King because he was knowledgeable on such subjects, maybe a former artillery officer. I understood him to be a reliable guard and not an oath-breaker."

  Phidestros nodded, as if her words confirmed his own thoughts. "Do you know how he escaped the Foundry sacking?"

  "Yes, I believe it was Aranth I heard slip out the back door of the former farmhouse we used as our common area and sleeping quarters. He left after the Red Hand blew open the doors and came in shooting. I was surprised that he would escape without giving warning to the rest of us, but he obviously had more experience in those matters than myself. Now, having seen the Investigation at work, I believe he did the prudent thing."

  Phidestros gave her a mocking grin. "But not the gallant thing, My Lady?"

  This time she refused to let herself blush. "No," she said, "I do not think many men would leave their comrades behind, while they alone escaped. Although, in Aranth's defense, he was not treated as an equal by the Foundry Masters. They may have been Masters at casting and making guns, but they were fools when it came to the world of war and being men."

  This time Phidestros did all those pipe-filling and flint-lighting things that all the men she knew on Aryan-Transpacific did when they wanted to gnaw over a line of thought without being obvious about it. Meanwhile, she waited patiently. Maybe I should take up knitting?

  "It's too bad he didn't take time to save some of these Masters-I could use them now. However, thanks to your words, I believe I have a better measure of the man, and for that, I thank you, Lady Sirna."

  She felt like standing up and curtsying, but instead she said, "You're welcome, Captain-General. Do you have any idea as to how much longer we're going to be cooped up in this place?"

  Phidestros shook his head. "No, it's a Dralm-blasted curse that we're still here! But, without a single leader, there is no one man in charge of the Host."

  "I thought Great King Lysandros was the head of the Grand Host."

  "True, he created it and claims it's his to command. However, it's not that simple. Styphon's House pays the bills, which leaves Grand Master Soton as co-commander. Lysandros can make decisions, but without Soton's and Styphon's House approval they may not be funded or obeyed. Since Lord High Marshal Zythannes, commander of the Ktemnoi Sacred Squares, was killed in battle along with his successor Prince Leonnestros, Prince Anaxon is now in charge of the Ktemoni troops. He's in favor of disbanding the Grand Host, or at least the Ktemnoi contingent. Were it not for the Grand Master's intransigence on the subject, Anaxon would already have departed. Presently, the Prince is awaiting further orders from Great King Cleitharses."

  "Ohhh. I didn't think it was that complicated."

  "Oh yes, My Lady, it is-and it gets worse. Great King Lysandros, by virtue of the fact he is Great King of Hos-Harphax-the Kingdom most harmed by the Usurper Kalvan-believes he should solely command the Grand Host. Of course, it doesn't appear to matter to him that he's never commanded an army this large or fought against Kalvan, who has advanced the arts of war more than any man since King Simocles of legend.

  "Meanwhile, it is Styphon's paychests that are paying our salaries and providing all our supplies and fireseed. The Archpriest Roxthar-due to Styphon's Own Call (which only he has heard, by the way)-believes he should be put in sole command to do Styphon's Will, as he puts it. Of course, he has neither military experience or proven leadership qualities. In the meantime, he wants to Investigate every Hostigi in Hos-Hostigos to see if they still believe in All-Father Dralm. However, when those who clearly do not-mostly knaves and cutthroats-tell him they do not, he doesn't believe them and is well on his way to completely depopulating the entire Kingdom!

  "Lysandros, who should care, doesn't. He's either too involved in his own machinations, or is just too frightened of Roxthar-and who can blame him, if he is?-to stop this madman before he kills every Hostigi within three hundred marches. On the other hand, Grand Master Soton, who does care, acts as if he doesn't, for some deep purpose of his own or the Inner Circle's.

  "Meanwhile, as Lysandros' handpicked commander, I spend my time smoking and drinking Ermut's Best in a bordello, wondering if and when I'll ever be allowed to do the job I'm being paid to do: Which is, quite simply, find Kalvan, force him to fight and then destroy him and all his armies."

  "That was very clear and concise," she replied, wishing some of her professors at Dhergabar University had been able to sketch their lessons half so well.

  "Thank you, Sirna. What bothers me most, and what these fools don't seem to realize-or care about-is that the more time we give Kalvan to escape and reorganize his army, the tougher he's going to be to stop. If I had it to do over, I would have put a muzzle on Lysandros, left Soton to his care and chased Kalvan straight to the Saltless Seas. I could have done it, but I wanted to please my liege lord."

 
"Now, I'm so disgusted with what's going on that all I want to do is leave and go home to rebuild my new Princedom. Styphon only knows what damage has been done while I've been playing mother hen to Lysandros and Archpriest Roxthar and all the rest."

  Phidestros wasn't the only one cast adrift here in the ruins of Hostigos Town. Only Dralm knew how many years she might be left to her own wits before she was rescued by the Paratime Police. Or abandoned forever when some crisis pulled their attention from this time-line. She had gone missing during a vicious war and might well be considered dead; maybe it wasn't so bad to have an outtime lover and protector, after all.

  "I'll have a cup of Ermut's Best, after all," she said.

  Phidestros looked at her in surprise, then smiled. He picked up a golden goblet and started to fill it himself.

  SIX

  Kalvan stood at the edge of the western pier running out of the Great Wharf and watched the comings and goings of galleys, boats, schooners, pinnaces and barges in and out of the Ulthor docks. A busy harbor in ordinary times, Ulthor Port had been in a flurry of activity since the advance elements of the Army of Hostigos had reached Ulthor. There were boats bringing in supplies and food stocks. Others had come in hopes they could sell passage to the more desperate Hostigi emigres. Kalvan was hoping that Trader Tortha would soon be disembarking from one of the ships; it had been several moons since he and Prince Phrames had left for Greffa to seek an audience with King Theovacar. He was anxious to hear what they had learned. Time was growing short.

  Many of the large boats were coastal galleys and galleasses, galleys with sails. The Saltless Seas (Great Lakes) boats did not need a lot of endurance; you could always paddle to shore if becalmed. But they did need strong hulls because of ice. They also had a constant battle with the lee shores. There was a need for a sailing rig that could sail into the wind quite well and on which sail could be dropped in a hurry if a storm came up suddenly, as they frequently did. So it was no surprise that the rest of the boats were gaff-rigged schooners, mostly trading vessels or fishing boats.