The Fireseed Wars k-5

by John F. Carr

  Lysandros exhaled deeply. "Theovacar is not a good ally. He is more concerned with shoring up his rule than honoring his word."

  "True, but we may find him useful later. Now that Kalvan's conquered Greffa City, Theovacar will learn he needs us more than we need him."

  "Be that as it may," Lysandros said, "how can we expect to match Kalvan's Navy on the Saltless Seas when he's defeated the greatest Navy in the Middle Kingdoms? The minute we depart from here with our guns, the Usurper will be free to navigate Thagnor River again. He will soon own the Aesklos Sea. Then his Navy will harry our transports from Glarth Town. When that happens, how will we be able to import enough food and material to continue this war?"

  Aristocles shrugged again. "We can only do our best. Kalvan is not a god, nor is he infallible; sooner or later he will make a mistake. When he does, we need to be in position to take advantage of it."

  "What about our supply problems?" Lysandros asked. "It's been a moon since the last supply train. Almost all our victuals are coming by ship from Glarth at exorbitant prices. It takes over two hundred tons of victuals a day, and twice that of forage for the horses, to feed our army."

  "I've contacted Tarr-Ceros about bringing supplies overland and by boat along the Erkfryn River. Let us find some use for our alliance with Grefftscharr."

  "If the Rathoni irregulars under King Chartiphon don't poach them before they reach our camp."

  "I'm asking for an escort of two Lances of Knights."

  Lysandros sighed. "We can use them. We've lost a third of our original numbers through Prince Phidestros' leave-taking, the Ros-Zarthani defection, casualties and desertions. At the moment, we barely outnumber the Hostigi three to one and that's only if we don't count the Army of Rathon, which has grown to a significant size.

  "It's just as well," Aristocles said. "We'd have trouble feeding any more men. The Usurper Kalvan has not left us much in the way of forage. We've stripped the larder of Morthron bare of food stocks and overland supplies from GrefFa City have stopped since its capture by the Hostigi."

  "So, at present, we're just marking time here until we have a fleet. Meanwhile, according to the latest dispatches from Harphax City, almost a third of my capital city has burned and there are riots almost every other day. It's taken the full weight of what remains of the Royal Army to restore peace, while Prince Phidestros waits patiently in Argros for events in Harphax City to spin out of control-leaving my pregnant wife as the only person between my Throne and disaster!"

  "I sympathize, Your Majesty," said the Knight Commander with a shrug. "However, the Order has its own problems. Warlord Ranjar Sargos has returned from his war against the Mexicotal stronger and richer than before. Next spring we can expect his hordes to cross the Great Mother River-"

  "Yes, but my problems are not in the near future, but today!" Lysandros exclaimed. "I need to return to Hos-Harphax while I still have a kingdom to rule."

  Artistocles held out his hands. "I will not allow it. Now that Soton has defeated the League of Dralm's Army there is nothing to stop him from conquering all of Hos-Agrys. Then he will be free to come to our aid with his army. All we need is patience and time."

  "Agrys City has not fallen yet," Lysandros pointed out. "Until it has, it is premature to speak of the conquest of Hos-Agrys. I wish Soton success, but we need help now. I do not know how much longer I can wait here, polishing my sword, for something to happen."

  "I am sorry about your difficulties, Lysandros, but you demanded to be co-commander of the Grand Host. And, is it not true that the expenditures you use to maintain your army and your Throne are borne by Styphon's House? What can be given, can easily be taken away; I'm certain that would be Styphon's Voice's response to your leaving."

  Lysandros spun around and rose to his feet; his head whirling. "I'm going outside. I need some fresh air." He was surrounded by enemies and his only ally was an untrustworthy former mercenary over a thousand marches away. How, in Galzar's name, was he going to extricate himself from this Dralm-spawned privy pit?

  III

  Arminta looked down at her swelling belly beneath the shift with wonderment. She felt a jab as the baby shifted positions and smiled. This new child was a miracle as far as she was concerned. Unlike many of her class, she'd always wanted children and been fond of her nieces and nephews. However, she had given up all hope of having children because of her refusal to accept her father's choices for her marriage bed. Fortunately, she'd had an indulgent father and several other sisters who were more malleable to being married off for dynastic reasons.

  It was also true that her father depended upon her advice. Prince Soligon was not a stupid man, but a simple one. He took people at their face value and was inclined to believe what he heard. It was his nature. Her mother had been his primary advisor, the steel in his backbone. When she died of the pox, Arminta became her father's confidante and advisor. She was good at it, and had expected to do it until her father went to Dralm's Sky-Palace.

  This baby, a gift from the Goddess, and her marriage were proof that one never knew what the gods held in store for the future. Arminta was happier now than she'd ever been. In Phidestros she had found her spirit mate. They talked as equals and warmed the marriage bed with equal fervor. His secret ambitions were fuel to her own; one day, she knew in her heart, they would occupy one of the five Great Thrones. She would have to raise a new shrine to Lytris to thank the Goddess for her good fortune.

  True, to others her husband might appear harsh and cold, but she knew that was because he'd never had a father's love. Phidestros had been forced by his hard-scrabble upbringing to guard his feelings and erect a wall of steel, which she suspected was why he'd named his mercenary company the Iron Band. To her and her alone, he opened his heart and his mind.

  She wished he were here with her at this moment, but he was off at the Palace in Argros Town talking with her father about the dire situation in Harphax City. She had suggested the meeting as a way to bring the two men she loved most closer together. Her father could use some of Phidestros' steel.

  Phidestros was also seeing just how much support Selestros would find outside of Harphax City for his candidacy for Great King. Great King Lysandros was greatly feared, but also widely hated. It was necessary to learn if he was hated enough that his subjects would support his removal and the Election of former Prince Selestros to the Iron Throne. And, whether the Prince's sudden conversion and piety would be believed, or held up to ridicule and scorn by the lower orders. King Kaiphranos' youngest son had a reputation far worse than that of the usual wastrel or drunkard.

  One of the maids came into the bed chamber and Arminta put down the scroll she had been trying to read off and on all morning. "Yes?"

  "Your Highness, that rascal Kyblannos is here to see you," she said with a giggle. All the maids loved Duke Kyblannos, who flirted outrageously with them and told them wild yarns.

  "I'm proper. Send him in."

  "Yes, Your Highness," the maid curtsied and left.

  "Your Ladyship, you look in fine fettle this morn'," Kyblannos noted.

  "Yes, I'm enjoying coming to term. Praise the Allmother, it is truly a blessing."

  "I've never seen a woman wear it so well, Your Ladyship."

  "Thank you, Baron." she replied. His words certainly matched her feelings, whether they were flattery or not.

  "I mean it, Arminta," Kyblannos said, "I know most don't take my words seriously, but I mean what I say. I've been with the Captain now for almost nine winters, and I've never seen him happier or more ready for action- you've been good for him."

  She smiled, and patted her belly. "He's been good for me, as well."

  "Trust me, it's rare when these arranged marriages turn out to be a love match as well! I pray to the gods that you always share such a love."

  Arminta was touched. She'd never heard Kyblannos speak from the heart before. "Thank you, friend. I know my husband greatly values his old comrades."

  Kyblannos nodd
ed. "We would follow him through the Caverns of Regwarn fighting demons and fireseed devils if he asked. If not for Phidestros, I would be a lowly soldier in some ragtag army, not a General and Duke of Beshta." He paused to blow his nose. "I just wanted you to know that, Your Ladyship. And the men respect you, too."

  "Thank you, Kyblannos." She had to exert all her self-discipline to keep from tearing up. She didn't want to embarrass herself, or Kyblannos.

  Kyblannos blew his nose again, dabbed at his eyes with his dirty handkerchief, then said, "I have something I want to show you." He took a crunched up scroll out of one the pockets in his over-large doublet and presented it to her.

  As she started to open it, he held up his hand.

  "Let me tell you what it's about, Your Ladyship. I know the Captain has told you that one of our Barons, a former Hostigi named Ranthos, was able to decipher the secret code that Styphon's House uses for its important messages."

  "Yes, he told me this. It appears there's a Styphon's House way station on his lands that the messengers use to rest and change horses."

  "True. Ranthos, a right smart captain, built a good inn and tavern next to the way station to encourage the Styphoni messengers to spend the night there. He has their wine drugged and, when they've passed out, has one of his men open their pouches and bring him the letters and documents inside. The bartender has a deft touch with the seals and, after he's finished, you'd never know they'd been broken! I wish we had ten just like him… but, anyway, Ranthos deciphers the messages, copies them and sends them to your husband."

  "Yes, he's told me about that and what some of the messages contained. That Prince Anaxon business was quite horrid!"

  Kyblannos nodded in accord. "This new Styphon's Voice is even worse than the old one! The Prince was really tempted to spill the brew on that one, but Ranthos pointed out Anaxon was doomed no matter what we did. It was just a matter of meeting Hadron sooner, than later. And it would hurt us more in the long run to let Styphon's House know that someone had deciphered their code."

  "Ranthos was right, although it chills my blood to think of how easily Styphon's House murders those who oppose them." Arminta shivered.

  Kyblannos shook his head. "No accounting for priests. This god business makes fools of most men, leastwise them that take it seriously. Anyway, before Ranthos left for Hos-Agrys, he taught me how to decipher the code and he's had their messages forwarded to me here at Tarr-Dodra. I've been deciphering them for the Prince."

  "I was aware of that."

  "Well, this morning a very important message came through. I usually hold them until the Prince returns, but this one here is way over my helm!"

  "What is it?"

  "The message I just deciphered was from the Supreme Priest and Styphon's Voice Anaxthenes. In it, he is relaying to Archpriest Heraclestros, who's to be the new Highpriest of Agrys, about another highpriest's research on King Demistophon's nearest heirs. From what I read, I deduced that Styphon's Voice has ordered Soton to behead Demistophon and install his youngest heir as the new Great King of Hos-Agrys with one of his Archpriests as the regent."

  "That's very interesting news," Arminta said, "especially now that Demistophon's uncle, Prince Vython, is dead. We may be able to use it to our advantage."

  Kyblannos smiled. "That's just what the Prince would say."

  "Which heir are they specifically looking for?"

  "The son of his deceased cousin, Duke Thalros. The Duke's widow and her young son Dementros are living in Glarth. For some reason not mentioned in the letter, Thalros was banished from court over twenty winters ago. He died four or five winters ago, leaving a widow and his son. It occurred to me that if we could find Thalros' son and foster him, we'd have control over the heir to the Throne of Light."

  "That's good thinking, Kyblannos. How old is the boy?"

  "The letter says he's ten winters old so he won't reach his majority for three more years."

  "We cannot afford to let him fall into this Archpriest's hands," Arminta said, her forehead furrowed in thought. "Does the letter give any information about the other heirs?"

  "Yes, Your Ladyship. It gives the names and locations of the other three heirs and instructs Heraclestros to find them and have them abducted. If that's not possible, his agents are to make certain they are killed. Any underage children are to be taken alive at all costs."

  "It will be half a moon before Phidestros returns. I don't think we can wait that long. When did the Captain receive this letter?"

  "Four nights ago. He said that it was arranged that the messenger would be delayed by tainted food. We probably have two, possibly three nights, before he arrives in Soton's camp."

  Arminta tapped her fingers on the chair rests. "Kyblannos, here's what we're going to do. Since the League's defeat, we can safely assume that most of the Princes in Hos-Agrys are fearful that Soton will send his army west to punish them for their attack. Most will be holed up in their tarrs. This means that a small band of Styphon's House agents will be able to freely travel across the land, although they may have problems with bandits and lawless deserters from the League's army. Still, even if we could get this knowledge to the League in time, there is no certainty that the Princes of Hos-Agrys could guarantee the safety of these heirs. Some of them might even use the heirs as bargaining sticks with Styphon's House.

  "That means it is up to us to try to find Thalros' son and secretly bring him safely to Greater Beshta where he can be under our protection. Our only vassal in Hos-Agrys is Grand-Captain Ranthos. We still haven't received word from him and do not know whether or not he survived the battle with Soton. Therefore, Kyblannos, I want you to take an armed party of what you deem of sufficient strength to find the League's Army, or what's left of it, and contact Grand-Captain Ranthos, should he still be alive."

  "That tough old buzzard will still be here long after I go to Galzar's Hall," Kyblannos said. "If he's in Hos-Agrys, I'll find him. I've spent six campaign seasons in Hos-Agrys and know most of the back roads and deer trails. What orders am I to give him?"

  "They're too dangerous to put in runes. Tell him that he's to enlist the help of anyone in Hos-Agrys he trusts to help him find Thalros' son. Once the boy has been found, he is to ensure that he is not recaptured by the Styphoni. If it is possible, he is to bring him here to us even if he has to desert his post with the League. That being impossible, he is to see that the boy is placed with a Prince or ally who can guarantee his protection. If Ranthos has come to harm, you will try to find the boy yourself."

  Kyblannos nodded up and down. "Ranthos will know what to do. On more than one occasion the Captain took him into his confidence and he gave good advice. If anyone can find the boy, Ranthos is the man. Failing that, I'll find him myself!"

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Kalvan and Verkan stood watching as the troops passed by the temporary reviewing stand. Over half of the missile infantry were carrying arquebuses and muskets, while the other half carried crossbows which were being phased out as quickly as the new Greffan Gunmakers Guild could turn out replacements. The traditional spearmen had been upgraded to pikemen. The new Greffan Army marched light on their feet and looked far better than the ragged outfit that the Hostigi petty-captains had begun to whip into shape two moons ago.

  With a good signing bonus, they'd been able to add a lot of Theovacar's former veterans to the muster lists as well as a lot of eager recruits. Verkan had taken ownership of the King's fireseed mills and started work on several new ones. He was hoping to corner the fireseed market from Greffa down to Xiphlon. If anyone could do it, Verkan would. He'd also put his prisoners, those soldiers who wouldn't recant their loyalty to Theovacar, to work building earthworks on the outer walls.

  The City had responded to its new leadership. Shops and businesses were busy and the streets were swarming with people, from Greffans to Urgothi nomads. Verkan had even started his own constabulary while outlawing private armies. Some of his touchier nobles had been offended, but the major
ity of his subjects felt safe-many for the first time. The peasants were back in their fields and there promised to be a bumper harvest in the fall.

  Kalvan had sent out his own buffalo and cattle hunting parties, some foraging as far as the mid-western plains, Iowa and Nebraska. He would have a lot of buffalo and beef jerky to take with him when he returned to Thagnor.

  The big surprise had been the visit by his old friend Var Wannax Ranjar Sargos.

  "Your Majesty," the huge warrior king said. "I never expected to find you seated in Greffa! After our return from the Mexicotal Wars, some peddlers and traders told yarns of how the Styphoni dogs drove you out of Hos-Hostigos, saying you had settled in Thagnor. I didn't believe them and had some of them whipped through the streets!"

  "That much is true." Kalvan gave him the condensed version of all that had happened since the Battle of Ardros Field and the Trail of Blood.

  When Kalvan told him how they had outmaneuvered the King of Greffa and taken his home seat, Sargos' face broke into a wide smile, showing off his jack-o-lantern teeth. "I've always hated that son-of-a-diseased sheep of unknown parentage. Is there anything me or my people can do to help you in this war against the manure eaters of the false god Styphon?"

  "Right now Thagnor City is being besieged by the Grand Host of Styphon. If your people could be persuaded to raid across the Great Mother River and hit the border tarrs of the Zarthani Knights, that would help a great deal. It might even force Soton to withdraw his Knights from Hos-grys.