The Fireseed Wars k-5

by John F. Carr

  "Bah! No one can replace Styphon's Fist. Furthermore," Lysandros continued, picking up Anaxthenes' missive, "the scroll further reads: 'The Holy Investigator Roxthar will continue his Investigation of the heretical Hostigi until the Grand Host of Styphon leaves the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos upon which time The Holy Investigator will continue with the Grand Host to root out heresy wherever he finds it.'"

  Phidestros held back a large sigh of relief. His worst fear had been that the Investigator would continue to purge the Hostigi throughout the former Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos until Roxthar reached his lands in Greater Beshta. At that point, Phidestros would have been forced to bar the Investigation from entry into his Princedom, resulting in an undeclared war upon Styphon's House. Or, were he to continue as co-commander of the Grand Host, find himself in a place where he was unable to help his new subjects.

  "It sounds like Styphon's Voice has given Roxthar blanket permission to go wherever Kalvan goes and do as he pleases."

  "Exactly! Which means that miserable baby-butcher will accompany the Grand Host all the way into the Trygath, or wherever the cowardly Usurper tries to hide!" Lysandros pounded the table, then paused to refill his goblet. "I'm beginning to regret the day that I entered into an alliance with this den of rattlesnakes who call themselves priests!"

  Of course, you didn't mind all the gold and silver they gave you to buy your support, my poor wronged king.

  "Then Styphon's Voice goes on to say that the Grand Master will be not be staying in Thaphigos to 'rectify my long-standing difficulties in a Princedom, wracked by war for two centuries due to the weaknesses of earlier monarchs.' He tells me that my problems with bandits from Hos-Agrys will be eliminated once the Dralm-worshipping monarch is deposed and beheaded! Is this any way to treat a Great King, even if he is a swine in human form?"

  Phidestros shook his head. Of course, Lysandros didn't favor the idea of beheading kings; once Kalvan was killed, Lysandros' neck might be next on the chopping block. Phidestros also understood Soton's reluctance to get involved in internal Harphaxi problems; the Grand Master didn't want to navigate a nasty bramble thicket before he invaded Hos-Agrys. Phidestros was surprised that Lysandros thought that was a problem. If Soton were to pacify Thaphigos, it might well remain under Styphon's robe, so to speak, as the Temple would lobby hard for their own candidate for the next prince.

  "This new Styphon's Voice may be the worst of a bad lot," Lysandros sputtered. He paused to refill his goblet with more wine. "I've always said you couldn't trust these wolves in yellow bed sheets. Haven't I?"

  Phidestros nodded in agreement, although what he really wanted to say was: "With your permission, Your Majesty, I will take my army down through Hos-Ktemnos to the City of Balph, raze it to the ground and kill every miserable priest in the city. Then we'll melt all the gold off the Temple domes, like Kalvan has done, loot the treasury and the mansions of the Archpriests and split the proceeds in half!" Of course, he didn't dare say it out loud, not knowing what side of the bed Lysandros would wake up on tomorrow morning. Nor would he be content with a straight split of the gold; Lysandros would want the panther's own share. Too bad.

  It was a remarkably good idea and he wondered why no one else had thought of it? Probably because of Styphon's Own Guard, but now that the greater part of the Temple Guard was in Hostigos? Hmm. Then it hit him why it hadn't been done before. He'd almost forgotten the Zarthani Knights; the sack of Balph would bring down the wrath of Soton like one of Thanor's lightning bolts! He would rather go up against a bull moose in rut than suffer the Grand Master's wrath.

  "Here's the greatest insult of all, Captain-General!" Lysandros exclaimed as he emptied his goblet, filling it again before reading: 'Having recalled the Grand Master of the Zarthani Knights, I now leave the Grand Host of Styphon's House in these three capable hands. Former Knight Commander Aristocles, who is now promoted to Grand Commander Aristocles of the Order of Zarthani Knights, will command the soldiers of Styphon and will command the vanguard of the Host, Lord High Marshal Anaxon will command the main battle, while Grand Captain-General Lysandros will command the rear guard. This is the Will of Styphon. Styphon's Own Voice.' Me, the Great King of Hos-Harphax, and all I'm given is command of the reserve!"

  Obviously, Styphon's Voice has not led any group much larger than the Inner Circle, thought Phidestros. A splintered command in charge of an army the size of the Grand Host could only result in chaos or its eventual breakup as each commander tried to impose his own battle plan. This is a Name Day Gift to Kalvan from the gods. Phidestros also noticed one big omission: despite his successes as Grand Captain-General of the Host, he was not named as commander of anything.

  "In the Archpriest Anaxthenes' jubilance at being elected Styphon's Own Voice, he has forgotten that I was the one who created the Grand Host and I can Dralm-damn well choose who leads it. Otherwise, I will rip it asunder!" the King shouted, wine slopping over the brim of his goblet.

  Phidestros ignored the King's drunken tirade. "Why is it, Your Majesty, that my name does not appear in this scroll?"

  Lysandros did have the grace to actually look sheepish, but would not meet his vassal's eyes. "We have other plans for you and your army."

  "And what are these plans, Your Majesty?"

  "Since Soton will be too preoccupied to give Us aid in Our time of need, We want you to take your Princely army into Thaphigos and restore order and tranquility throughout the Princedom. You and your army will stay there until the end of summer, at which time Demistophon's fate will be settled and order will have returned to Thaphigos. You shall be Our mace throughout Hos-Harphax while We are engaged in destroying the Usurper who falsely calls himself 'Great King of Hos-Hostigos.' Is that clear?"

  Phidestros' first reaction to his Great King's words was a desire to smash Lysandros' wine-sodden face into the nearest stone wall. However, he had to remember that such an act would brand him an outlaw before all men; he did have a lot to lose, including his new Princedom. He'd worked too Dralm-dammed hard to get this far only to throw it away on some grand gesture-no matter how momentarily satisfying it might be.

  Is this an insult from Lysandros or a gift from the gods? Maybe some of both, Phidestros finally decided, as his blood calmed. Now, he could return to Greater Beshta and set his own affairs straight without worry of interference from his Great King, Styphon's House or Roxthar's unholy Investigation before he turned his hand to settling events in Thaphigos. Of course, he'd have to relinquish his command-well, command was a little strong; leading the Grand Host was much akin to herding kittens. Lysandros, with his smug face, might be doing him more of a favor than his Great King realized.

  "I will do as Your Majesty bids," he replied, thinking: But don't come to me if you ever need help keeping the Iron Throne! I'll even clean your stables in Thaphigos, but there will be a blood price.

  "The Grand Host will be leaving for Ulthor Port, where our agents-inquisitory say Kalvan is hiding under his bed, tomorrow at dawn. You can leave as soon as you prepare your Beshtan army. Now that you are no longer with the Host, you will not lose any of your mercenaries to the Ban of Galzar. Prince Sthentros has asked Us to allow him to borrow some of your mercenaries, as he has no troops of his own."

  It's interesting, Phidestros thought to himself, how my Great King steps so carefully around my name to avoid calling me Prince. If I did not have such a large army and were he not oath-sworn, I would worry that upon his return my patent would be revoked.

  "Tell Sthentros to hire his own mercenaries," Phidestros answered. As far as the arrogant traitor was concerned, he'd like to leave him in a pool of blood with his throat slit. The Hostigi betrayer would have more than that to fear if Great Queen Rylla ever got her hands on him. Everyone had heard tales of how she'd punished King Araxes of Phaxos and all his family and personal retainers! And Araxes' sins were minor ones when compared to those of Sthentros.

  The King looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue. He could command many thing
s from his vassals, but not the disposition of troops that were not considered part of the King's levy. Not yet, anyway. And, if Phidestros had his way-not ever.

  The new Queen, Prince Sthentros' daughter, who had just arrived from Harphax City, was another firebrand. She'd let her displeasure about their tumbledown palace be known loudly throughout Hostigos Town-or what was left of it. King Lysandros was welcome to her, too; as far as Phidestros was concerned, they deserved each other.

  Suddenly the Great King looked discomfited; Phidestros unconsciously put his hand over his purse.

  "I do have a favor to ask."

  "Yes, Your Majesty." What now, do you want me to swamp the Royal Privy?

  "We would like your healer, the Lady Sirna, to accompany my new wife, Queen Lavena, back to Harphax City. It would be unsafe for her to follow the Host in her condition."

  Was Lysandros a cuckold after only a moon quarter of marriage? Or had this seed been planted before he left Harphax City?

  "Congratulations, Your Majesty. I will pray to Styphon that your child is a boy."

  "Thank you, Prince Phidestros." Lysandros actually smiled. "I entrust you with the future of Our House."

  "I will ask the Lady Sirna to do as you ask. Her work with the Iron Band is just about done." Of course, he would miss her company, but they would share many nights together upon his return to Besh Town.

  "And, before you are dismissed, I would like to inform you that before leaving Harphax City I met with Prince Soligon of Argros."

  Phidestros nodded, wondering what this had to do with him. As he understood it, when he was last in Harphax City, Soligon was one of the few Princes of Hos-Harphax who was rumored to belong to the League of Dralm.

  "Soligon is a cousin, on my mother's side, and we decided that his daughter, Princess Arminta, might make you a good wife."

  Phidestros tried to keep his jaw from hitting the table. "M… m… m my wife?"

  "Yes, it would not only fill your bedchamber, but bring us closer in blood."

  It was all he could do to keep from disgorging his last meal. Suddenly, he understood why Lysandros wanted Sirna to accompany Queen Lavena, and it wasn't just for her company. He was the main course on the plate of matrimony. Politically, it would prove to be a good match for the both of them. He would soon be Lysandros' kinsman and much less likely to misbehave while Lysandros was off haring after Kalvan. On the other hand, a princess for a wife would go a long way to legitimizing a commoner and a bastard. Maybe Lysandros was a lot deeper than he'd thought.

  FIFTEEN

  It was over a moon quarter since Rylla and the Army of the Trygath had left Port Ulthor. There hadn't been a word about the Nythrosi fleet until this morning at sunrise, when Cleon had awakened Kalvan with the news of its arrival. He'd had to stop himself, in a total loss of royal dignity, from throwing on some rumpled breeches and a doublet and dashing down to the wharves to see for himself. He'd decided to wait until he was officially notified of their arrival.

  Instead, he forced himself to work with Colonel Ralthos, another of his up-and-coming young officers, on the gunboat situation. With General Alkides off with the Army of the Trygath, Ralthos was the ranking artillery commander. So far they had twelve finished gunboats with half a dozen more in various stages of production.

  "We have three more boats that are worth shipping to Thagnor, but the rest aren't far enough along to bother taking them out of the work sheds. It would be easier to build them anew, with some of the improvements Your Majesty suggested."

  "Good, Colonel. I want them put aboard our own ships. I don't want the Nythrosi to even hear a whisper about the gunboats. Make sure you burn and destroy everything, including the sheds, before we leave."

  "Yes, Sire. We wouldn't want those Styphoni curs getting their paws on our work!"

  "We've got outriders waiting to burn every farm and field around Ulthor Port. Once they're finished, they'll blow up all the buildings in town and torch whatever is left before we depart."

  Colonel Ralthos' nodded grimly, as it would be his men who would be responsible for laying the charges.

  His subjects were still learning the meaning of total war. Kalvan didn't intend to leave anything behind except charcoal and stone. His Ulthori subjects had been warned; over half the town had left with Rylla's baggage train. The rest had left for the hills, leaving Ulthor Port as empty as an Old West ghost town. Those who had the money to buy passage had left half a moon ago for Glarth Town or the Middle Kingdoms.

  Kalvan knew he was not a popular figure in westernmost Hos-Hostigos. Still, refugees from the Investigation were arriving daily. Now that they had no more room for extra cargo, the DPs were being turned back at the outskirts of town. They were given as much food as the town's quickly dwindling foodstocks-Rylla and the Army of the Trygath had taken the lion's share-would allow, pointed in the direction of the Trygath and firmly told to depart.

  He doubted many of the late arrivals would survive the coming winter, but their survival was out of his hands for now. Someday, he promised himself, Styphon's House would pay for every single death.

  He heard Prince Phrames' voice in the hallway.

  "Come in, Phrames."

  "Your Majesty, the Nythrosi fleet has arrived. Boarding has already commenced."

  "Excellent."

  Phrames came in wearing a heavy cloak. "Dress warmly, Your Majesty. There's a chill wind blowing off the sea." Trader Tortha and Uncle Wolf Tharses trailed behind, followed by a large dog that looked like a Roman wolfhound.

  "Trader Tortha, how long will it take to load all our men and supplies aboard the ships?"

  Tortha looked upward, as though asking help from the gods, then said, "Two or three days at most, Your Majesty."

  "Good. Colonel Ralthos, I want you to see that the palace is completely destroyed. We've got almost ten tons of Styphon's fireseed that's not worth transporting, not even for trading. Put it where it will do the most good."

  Ralthos looked appalled, but nodded his accord. "There's not going to be a lot to return to, Sire."

  "I don't intend to leave anything to aid and comfort the enemy!" Kalvan snapped back, no longer able to restrain his temper. He didn't relish torching Ulthor Port the way General Sherman had fired Atlanta, but it had to be done.

  Ralthos looked as if he'd been struck. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

  Phrames looked at him with hurt eyes.

  Kalvan shook his head. "I'm not angry with any of you, so don't take my bad mood personally. I can't tell you how much I hate having to pull our own house down just to discomfort the enemy, but there is no other path. We've lost our home-maybe for good."

  They all looked abashed at his bald statement of the facts.

  "We must believe, and our subjects must believe, that we will return," Phrames pronounced. "If we lose our identity as Hostigi, we are lost. Both as a kingdom and as a people."

  "You are absolutely right. However, among ourselves we'd better be prepared for any eventuality, even if it means permanent exile."

  No one had anything to say about this declaration. They all left for the docks a somber, but united, group.

  II

  Prince Phidestros emptied the last of the dregs of wine from his goblet, then opened his tobacco pouch. It had been a long day and he was beat. He had just finished an exhaustive survey of Sashta, the former Hostigi Princedom, now the westernmost portion of his new Princedom of Greater Beshta. Unlike Beshta, which had missed most of the troop movements, Sashta had been both the crossroads and the gathering point for the Grand Host's invasion of Hos-Hostigos, and had suffered accordingly. These days Sashta was closer to a graveyard than a thriving princedom.

  He had taken over the border town of Lemnos as his temporary headquarters while his men completed their survey and census. He was staying in the former Great Hall of the local castle, Tarr-Lemnos, which had taken a severe beating during the invasion. Most of the tapestries and hangings had been stripped and part of the ceiling and one
of the walls were shored up with timbers, but Kyblannos had assured him it was safe enough for short-term habitation.

  Mynos, his man servant, came into the chamber, asking, "Your Highness, can I offer you some more wine?"

  "Bring in more goblets and one of the casks of Ermut's Best I was saving for my entry to Beshta Town. Kyblannos, Geblon and some of my advisors will be arriving soon. Show them in immediately."

  By the time he had his pipe bowl filled and lit, his advisors were filling the hall. They were the former captains and petty-captains of the old Iron Company as well as the new companies that made up the Iron Band. All of them had fought at his side and could be trusted to guard his back against any knife thrusts, literal or verbal.

  These men would be the new barons and lords of Greater Beshta; he'd use only those courtiers and servitors from Harphax City he absolutely had to use to please the King. Already, scores of lackeys and sycophants from all over Harphax were gathering at Beshta Town, according to his latest dispatch from Captain Cythros, to divide the spoils-or so they thought.

  The reports his men gave were disquieting, to say the least. Captain Rydos of the Thirteen Moons Company finished his census report with this broadside: "There aren't enough able-bodied men left in Sashta to field a single company of shot! The only civilians who remain are either those who were too ill or too old to be Investigated; there's not enough of those to fill a town square. Most of the farms were burned or used for gun practice. The towns and villages are in ruins and the miserable skin-and-bone wretches who inhabit them are like wraiths from Regwarn! It's so bad here that it would take Appalon himself to convince the Harphaxi street rabble to move here."

  "Well, Gentlemen, this is not acceptable," Phidestros replied. He had expected grim news, but nothing this bad. Still, he had several ideas of how to remedy the problem. "First, I refuse to fill Greater Beshta with the gaol droppings and deadbeats of the Five Kingdoms! Secondly, I have an army fit for a Great King, not a prince."