The Fireseed Wars k-5

by John F. Carr

II

  The little backwoods village of Salis was even more poverty-stricken and insular than most of the small villages they'd passed through on their journey. They approached it stealthily, as Ranthos didn't want to leave any evidence of their passing that the Styphoni might collect. He left the main part of his command several marches before the crossroads; he didn't want any evidence of their passage through the village.

  So far they hadn't run into any of Styphon's agents and he guessed they were a few days ahead of the enemy. Lysia had left a moon quarter before with a heavy escort for Glarth Port, where she'd taken the first ship bound for Thagnor City with the news of their mission.

  Ranthos and Mnestros were dressed up as itinerant peddlers. Their cover story was that they were on their way to Glarth Port and ran low on supplies. Ranthos was to do most of the talking because Mnestros had trouble speaking the common tongue. There were two taverns in the village; they picked the smaller of the two.

  The tavern had seen better days. They found a three-legged table next to an upended beer keg which was collecting rain water as it dripped down from a bad joint in the roof braces. The wizened old bartender was lonely and a fountain of information.

  "There's not much custom for peddlers in Salis. In better times, the Duke used to keep many retainers and a small factory that made oil lamps. The market was always busy. But since his death, most of the retainers have left and the factory closed. Now the village is poor and many of the young folk leave for the Glarth Town as soon as they reach their majority. By the time I die there won't be a handful of freeholds left.

  "You might try the First Elder's house, it's the only one with whitewash in the village. Oh yes, there's the Duke's widow; her serving ladies might need some pots or pans. Just follow the stream as it goes north; her manor is about ten marches outside of town."

  Ranthos shook his head. "Too far out of our way. Maybe we'll visit the First Elder and see if his wife can use any of our wares."

  They picked up some jerky and raw potatoes at one of the dilapidated market stalls and then made a halfhearted attempt to sell some pots, but the Elder's wife wasn't the least bit interested in their wares. All she could talk about were the shops in Glarth; it took them half a candle to shake her loose. In that dead village it seemed that even itinerant vagabonds were preferable to the same old faces.

  The two of them departed by the main trail so that later no one would suspect they'd doubled back. If the villagers didn't know anything, there was nothing they could tell the Styphoni. By horseback it didn't take long to reach the old manor, which looked as if it hadn't been refurbished since the Duke had died. The outer walls were crumbling and the watchtowers deserted.

  Still in their disguises, they approached the main gate, which was open, one door permanently. It appeared the area was too poor to even attract bandits.

  There was a young girl in the courtyard near the well. She was well-dressed and appeared cared for. The girl was about four or five winters. She raced off, calling for her mother.

  The little girl returned holding a woman's hand. A guard with a noticeable limp trailed her. The woman was comely except for a scar that ran from one corner of her mouth around to her chin.

  "I'm Lady Tymolara," she said with a smile. "This is my daughter, Katlya." She patted the little girl on the head. "How may I help you gentlemen?"

  In their current disguises they were anything but gentlemen. Ranthos shuffled around like any lowborn peddler approaching a Lady far above his station. "Your Ladyship, we have some used pots and pans for sale. Would you gentlefolks be in need of such goods?"

  "I'm sorry, but the Lady of the House and I have more than enough worldly goods for our small household. You might fare better with your wares downstream at the village. You can tell them I sent you."

  Ranthos bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Ladyship. We'll be on our way."

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Ranthos turned to Mnestros. "We'll wait until nightfall."

  III

  They came back with a squadron of soldiers and some pack mules. There was only one old man on watch and he was fast asleep up against a railing. It only took them a quarter candle to round up all the occupants, the Lady Timolyara and her daughter, three young serving girls, two young men, the guard and an old lady, with all the manners of Hostigi Head Midwife Amasphalya, who lumbered behind, screeching curses. One of the soldiers casually cuffed her in the mouth and she shut up.

  The Duchess was ill and could not be moved from her bed. The boy, Dementros, stood by her side as if rooted there. Ranthos stood over her while he tried to come up with a plan. He turned to the Mnestros. "Go fetch the Lady Timolyara, and take the boy downstairs."

  "Yes, sir."

  From the looks of the Duchess, a quick stab in the heart might be the most merciful thing he could do. Her gray hair was caked in tangled strands and her pale skin hung in wattles from her face, leaving the bones underneath in stark relief. Ranthos doubted she weighed thirty ingots, all wrinkled skin and bone. From her labored breathing, he suspected pneumonia or pleurisy. While Phidestros would accept her murder as the logical course of action, he might have a more difficult time explaining it to Duke Mnestros, or Captain-General Hestophes.

  Of course, if they put her in her coach she'd die soon enough, regardless, although it would be a lingering and painful death. As a Paratimer, he knew a fast end would be the best cure for her ills.

  The Duchess came to with a start. "Who are you?" she asked, between coughs.

  "I have come to rescue your son. He is wanted by Styphons House."

  She shuddered. "I feared this day would come. They will use him badly, if you allow it. I don't have long for this world, Bless Yirtta Allmother." She began a series of coughs that wracked her thin frame. When her spasms stopped, she implored, "Please, promise me you'll take good care of my son."

  Since that was the plan anyway, Ranthos had no trouble giving her his oath. Somehow that seemed to release her; the Duchess gasped a few times, and fell back upon her bed. She looked at rest and he checked her wrist for a pulse.

  When Lady Timolyara arrived, she looked at the Duchess and asked, "Did you hurt her?"

  "No, she made me swear not to harm the boy, then she quietly passed."

  The Lady nodded. "She's suffered so much."

  He nodded. "It is for the best. I have seen this illness before and it never ends well."

  "May Yirtta take her to the Allmother's Blessed Fields."

  He asked, "My Lady, is the boy a lackwit? He doesn't appear to have his senses about him."

  She shook her head. "No, Dementros is just in shock. He had to sit and watch his mother being devoured by the coughing fever. He's refused to leave her side. The Duchess was in fair health less than half a moon ago. Although, she has never been very strong; still, she was always kind.

  "What do you intend to do with us, sir? You are no peddler. Are you bandits? As you can see, there's little here worth stealing."

  Ranthos pondered for a moment, then decided the truth couldn't hurt. "No, we are soldiers. Has word reached your village that Styphon's House has laid siege to Agrys City?"

  "Yes, about a moon ago someone brought the news to Salis. Have they taken the City?"

  "Not yet, but it won't be long. It won't hold out past summer. The Styphoni defeated the League of Dralm's Army which attempted to break the siege. Now, the Styphoni have patrols throughout the Kingdom searching for King Demistophon's heirs. The boy's father was the Great King's cousin."

  Her face scrunched up and she practically snarled. "He was always a terrible braggart! But, while he was alive, a purse of gold came every moon from Agrys City. He claimed to be in line for the Throne of Light. We did not believe it since he lived as a friendless exile. The Duke died over five winters ago, while I was still a girl. He was a terrible man and all the manor rejoiced at his passing, none as much as the Duchess."

  Ranthos did the math, remembering that the Duke had been exiled because o
f his penchant for young girls of noble blood. It was possible her daughter was the Duke's bastard. He needed Timolyara's cooperation so this wasn't the time to question her about it, nor was he the right man to make further inquiries.

  "We are going to spirit you out of the manor before the agents of Styphon's House arrive."

  She made a quick circle around her chest, as the worshippers of the Allfather were prone to do when they made their silent prayers. "We have heard the terrible tales of Styphon's Investigation of Hos-Hostigos, even here. I would have killed the Duchess and her son before I would have let them fall into their unclean hands."

  Considering the abominable security his men had encountered at the manor, he doubted that she would have had the opportunity.

  "Can we stay until the Duchess is buried?"

  Ranthos shook his head. "She comes with us."

  The Styphoni might only be days behind them. They had to evacuate the manor and buy time for Great Queen Rylla to put forth her own choice for the Throne of Light.

  Turning to Mnestros, he said, "It's your job to burn the village and chase away the villagers. If we fail to stop the Styphoni, I want them to believe the inhabitants were snatched by demons."

  FIFTY

  Queen Rylla tried to sit cozily on her chair, but the baby was fidgeting and she couldn't find a comfortable position. It didn't help that the day was hot and muggy as well. Fortunately, the stone walls of the palace kept it cool inside. She knew the baby was due soon, within a moon half, but as far as she was concerned, it couldn't come soon enough. She'd hoped for a while that Kalvan would return from Greffa to be with her during this birth, but with the Grand Host still camped outside she knew that was not to be. Besides, now that she'd given birth once, it was not as frightening. Although Head Midwife Amasphalya kept reminding her about all the problems they had with Demia's birth, and how close they'd come to losing both her life and the baby's. If Amasphalya wasn't so good at her job, she would have dismissed the harridan in a heartbeat!

  At least she and Kalvan had settled the problem of what to name the baby. If it was a boy-and she prayed to Yirtta that it would be, because a male heir would solidify their hold over their new subjects-they'd agreed to name him Ptosphes, after her father. That had always been her hope, but she'd graciously offered to name him after Kalvan's father, who had been a priest-although he had never told her of which temple. Kalvan had refused to even discuss it, saying his father's name was clumsy and unpronounceable. She suspected that far more was involved, as he never discussed his childhood. She knew him well enough to leave the topic alone.

  Rylla prayed to all the True Gods that their children would have happier memories of their childhood.

  There was a knock at the chamber door.

  "Come in."

  One of her Ladies-in-Waiting, opened the door and stuck her head inside. "There's a Baroness Lysia to see you, Your Majesty."

  That was a surprise, since Lysia must have come all the way from Hos-Agrys. It must be important, she thought. I pray nothing's happened to Hestophes!

  "Your Majesty, look at you! You're as big as a house!"

  Rylla laughed. "The baby's due any day now."

  "It'll be a big boy," Lysia pronounced.

  Rylla smiled. "We hope it's a boy. A son would go a long way towards bringing our new subjects to the Fireseed Throne."

  "I will pray to Yirtta that it is so."

  She rose up and attempted to hug her friend. "Lysia, is Hestophes safe?"

  "Oh yes, Your Majesty. I left on his orders."

  "Whatever it is, it must be important for him to send you away."

  Lysia laughed. "Yes, he likes to keep me within arm's reach, especially when there's a battle."

  Rylla joined her. "Our men are very much alike."

  "It is good that they are on the same side."

  "Did you have any difficulties making your way past the Host's sentries?" Rylla asked.

  "I had the ship master land in Ulrym, a small fishing village in Gytha, and rode overland. Some of Prince Phrames' men escorted me to the boat from Gytha Town to Thagnor."

  "Good. Praise Dralm, the Styphoni don't have any warships on the Sea of Aesklos."

  "No, but most of the ships leaving Port Glarth are bringing supplies for the Host. It was fortunate that I only needed a small boat for my party."

  "How are things in Hos-Agrys?" Rylla asked. "I heard about the League's defeat in Hestophes' last dispatch. Will the League reform with a new army before the next campaign season?"

  Lysia nodded. "They have no choice. If they do nothing, Styphon's House will own the entire Kingdom by next fall. The spur that goads the Agrysi on is Arch-Butcher Roxthar's Investigation. They're afraid that the Investigation will find them to be heretics."

  "I'd say that's being realistic; a heretic to Roxthar is anyone who doesn't believe that Styphon is the only true god."

  "Yes, and the Agrysi people have come to realize that means almost all of them."

  "I see the hand of Xentos behind this, as well," Rylla said.

  "Oh, yes. He preaches to one and all the sins of Styphon's House. I know the Primate's heart is filled with sorrow over what happened in Hostigos and to her people."

  "Too little, too late, for me." She found it impossible to keep the bile she felt out of her voice. They might still be in Hostigos, her father and Harmakros alive, if Xentos had pushed the League of Dralm to intervene in the war with Styphon's House last spring. Now, it was Xentos' turn on the hot seat. Good, Dralm damn him!

  "I hope you're not here to ask for more troops to help the League of Dralm?"

  Lysia shook her head. "No, Your Majesty, I came about a secret operation that Hestophes came up with. We have a one-time opportunity to put our own candidate on the Throne of Light."

  Rylla leaned forward, her discomfort momentarily forgotten. "Yes. And how is that to be done?"

  Lysia told her about the stolen dispatch from Styphon's Voice and the search for the King's heirs throughout Hos-Agrys by the Styphoni and Captain Ranthos and Duke Mnestros. "If Ranthos finds the boy first-and I believe he will-and if we can find a suitable substitute, we can eventually put a Hostigi on the Throne of Light as the next Great King of Hos-Agrys."

  "Dralm be praised!" Rylla exclaimed. "Do we have enough time to get a substitute back to Glarth?"

  "I believe so. Captain Ranthos swore an oath to me that he will kill any Styphoni that reaches the Duke's mansion before we do. He's a hard man, but he holds to his word."

  "Then we have a chance to get our candidate into Glarth…" Rylla tried to think of an alternate choice, but only one candidate popped up in her mind-Aspasthar. Yet, the boy was her last link to Harmakros. What would Kalvan do? she asked herself.

  She called for her Lady-in-Waiting and ordered, "Have Commandant Aspasthar brought to my chamber at once!"

  She hurried off and Rylla took this opportunity to relay to Lysia the state of the Grand Host's siege and how Sarrask of Sask had defeated King Theovacar and sent him packing. She was just finishing one of Kalvan's letters about the fall of Greffa when her Lady-in-Waiting returned with Aspasthar.

  "Your Majesty," he said, standing at attention.

  Aspasthar looked so young; Rylla felt as if her heart was going to break. She hated the idea of sending this young lad into the middle of the Styphoni caldron. However, it was such a brilliant plan, if it came to success, that she had no choice but to go forward. Succinctly, she filled him in on the situation in Hos-Agrys, promising herself that if Aspasthar had the slightest reservation she'd find someone else-she had no idea who it would be, but someone would turn up.

  Aspasthar looked as happy as a boy who'd just found a golden crown on a cobblestone street. "Your Majesty, I volunteer. I've always known that one day I would get an opportunity to pay Styphon's House back for what they did to Hostigos and to my father. The gods have blessed me with this opportunity!"

  Against this youthful fervor, Rylla didn't stand a chance. He re
minded her too much of her own younger self.

  "Then, Aspasthar, you must gather your kit and prepare to leave at once."

  "I can be ready in a candle, Your Majesty!"

  Rylla smiled, turning to Lysia. "How long before your ship can sail?"

  "It's a smuggling vessel. I told the Captain to wait at Ulrym and that I would see that his hold was filled with twenty casks of Ermut's Best. Is that possible?"

  "That is agreeable. Plus, if he can get you back to Glarth Port quicker than the journey here, I'll give him a purse of gold for every day he saves. This opportunity is beyond price!"

  "That will spur him and his crew. Thank you, Your Majesty."

  Rylla turned to the boy. "Aspasthar, I don't want you to be in Styphoni hands by yourself. Pick three boys from the Military Academy that would be good companions in a fight and know how to sew up their lips."

  Aspasthar looked as if he were about to jump up and down with excitement. "I know just the boys! This is going to be an adventure to end all adventures. Thank you, thank you, Your Majesty!"

  The poor boy doesn't know the half of it, Rylla thought to herself, as she watched him skip away with Baroness Lysia. She felt her eyes begin to tear, as she wondered what she would have done had Aspasthar been her boy: Would she have sent her son off into the enemy's lair in the hopes that one day he would be in a position to help the Throne? It was a good question and one to which she didn't have the answer. Harmakros, forgive me. Allfather Dralm, please keep watch over young Aspasthar! Please, do not let him come to harm.

  II

  The buckskin-clad scout, his arms waving, galloped into the clearing, reining his horse in at the last moment in a spatter of flying dirt clods and lather. "The Styphoni are about two marches away, sir!"

  The poor horse was bellowing so hard for air that the scout could barely be heard over his labored breathing. Grand-Captain Ranthos used the distraction to organize his thoughts. If the substitute boy was coming from Thagnor, he wouldn't be here-unless the Goddess Lytris flew him herself!- for another quarter moon at the earliest. They had already made one attack to slow the Styphoni, but they were as determined to reach the village of Salis as the Hostigi were to keep them out. There was only one choice-attack!