The Fireseed Wars

by John F. Carr

Lysandros gave his Chief Intelligencer a hard stare. Count Hythar was perched like a carrion bird on the back of his big horse. Lysandros detested the Count and referred to him as Chief Rat to his friends. However, Hythar s nose sniffed out news like a cur smelled a rival’s markings. For now, he was useful. When this war is over, I’m going to grant him the smallest fiefdom in war-torn Nostor and order him to stay there until Styphon’s next Revelation!

  “It worries me that we know nothing about the Usurper’s plans,” Aristocles continued. “Thanks to the Investigation the Hostigi are fighting us to the death, and the ones we do capture are nonentities. We are going to have to winter in this foul land, which grows colder every day.”

  “What will we do for supplies?” Demnos asked.

  Lysandros nodded. “We have just enough victuals, fodder, spare wagon wheels, horseshoes and firewood on hand to get us to Rathon City and set up a short siege.”

  Aristocles paused to take out his pipe and tobacco pouch. As soon as his pipe was lit, he began, “The Grand Master and I discussed a number of contingency plans before he left for Balph. I had hoped he would return to lead the Host, but the gods saw otherwise. It is good that Phidestros and his army did not continue with the Host, or we would soon be facing shortages of food and fodder.

  “We have enough supplies, if we’re careful, for about another moon. There is a large supply train on the way from Hos-Ktemnos, and it should reach us in a moon half. If it does, it will give us another moon of victuals. Soton also purchased another two moons’ worth of supplies in Glarth, but we will need a safe harbor on the Sea of Aesklos. Once we reach Hos-Rathon we should be able to forage for supplies, unless Queen Rylla has burned them out, as well.

  “It was Soton’s plan to winter in one of the cities that could be reached overland by trails from Tarr-Ceros so that supplies could be shipped up to us. There is a water route, but it is too dangerous. Fortunately for us, none of these cities, except Greffa, have fortifications that would stop our guns.”

  Lysandros nodded. “Won’t taking over one of these cities make us new enemies?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty, so we must pick a city that is vulnerable with few allies,” Aristocles said. “You must remember, it was not our original plan to travel this far west. It is Kalvan who has dictated the length of our march.”

  Lysandros, being a king himself, knew that Theovacar--even were he only half as ambitious as rumor had it--would not welcome another major player in Middle Kingdom politics, especially one like the Usurper Kalvan with over sixty thousand soldiers. On the other hand, the Greffan king might view the Host as a counter to Kalvan’s obvious ambitions in his territory.

  “So be it,” Lysandros pronounced. “If Rathon City does not fall within a moon half, we will move the Host to the Sea of Aesklos and find a city to winter in.”

  III

  Xenophes, High Marshal of Styphon’s Own Guard, stared at his subordinate in disbelief. “What do you mean that in all of Hos-Ktemnos you could only find one hundred and eighteen recruits for the Temple Bands?”

  “Most of the good recruits, at least those that aren’t fighting with the Grand Host, have joined Styphon’s Voice’s Sephrax Guardsmen.”

  “Marshal, you mean Anaxthenes’ private army!” Xenophes cried out, pounding on the table top.

  “Yes, sir. The war with the Usurper Kalvan has dragged on too long. All the good recruits are either in the army or dead. We need to raise our enlistment bonus in order to compete with the Sephrax Guardsmen.”

  “And here, after all these years, I thought we were Styphon’s Guard.”

  “True, we were until Anaxthenes was Elected as Styphon’s Voice. He has found our support of Investigator Roxthar unacceptable.”

  “Before the Fireseed Wars, this would never have happened,” Xenophes declared. “In those days we had almost twenty thousand men in scarlet. Now we field less than half that number, and most of those are either with the Grand Host, or supporting Investigator Roxthar’s work in the False Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. I had hoped to muster enough recruits to put at least three Bands back on the rolls. We have lost the 2nd, the 4th, the 9th and the 12th Band and on and on ... Why so many? Has this been Grand Master Soton’s doing?”

  “No, High Marshal. The Temple Bands always fight in the thick of the battle; we are also renowned for never surrendering and, if captured, our men are tortured or hanged. I learned this at Ardros Field. The Hostigi call us the Red Hand of Styphon and cry, “No Quarter! No Mercy!” when fighting us. Our casualty rate is much, much higher than other units. Nor has it helped that this cursed war has dragged on for many winters. Our support of the Holy Investigation has further incensed our enemies.”

  “Yes, but this Investigation has been extremely profitable.”

  “Not if we lose our power base, sir.” Marshal Stratos said.

  “By Styphon’s Beard, there is truth in your words.”

  “Maybe it is time to recall some of our Bands, sir?”

  “And announce to all the world of our weakness? Then, Commander, you will see the wolves really come out of the woods.”

  “What else can we do, High Marshal?”

  “I will not accept defeat at the hands of some stepped-up Archpriest. We will leave Balph while we still can, heads up and our glaives held high. We will tell Grand Master Soton that we are leaving in support of his advance into Hos-Agrys. He will not like it, but he cannot refuse our help, nor will Anaxthenes allow him such a liberty. It will please Styphon’s Voice to see us leave.”

  “But isn’t that a retreat?” the Grand Commander asked.

  “No, it’s a strategic withdrawal, while we still have the upper hand. We will establish a new base of operations in the Northern Kingdoms. It is time they learned of Styphon’s real fist! After we have rebuilt our forces, we will return to the Holy City.”

  “What about the Investigator? Won’t he be displeased?”

  “Roxthar is our tool, not the other way around, Commander! Remember that. I will send him a letter telling him of our efforts to lay the groundwork for the Investigation of the Northern Kingdoms, and request his aid. If I know our man, he will bolt out of the Grand Host like one of Kalvan’s rockets?’

  NINETEEN

  Prince Phrames looked through the farseer at the distant watchtower through the tree and brush cover, then at the horizon. The sun, a glowing red orb, was slowly rising above the distant horizon and he could feel the tension building in the waiting soldiers. It was almost time to initiate the attack. Last night they had subdued the area between the village of Prumfyld and city walls, mostly farms and small villages, and taken over a thousand prisoners. He had taken care to see that the captives were well treated, at least, those who surrendered. For the rest, the King’s victory brought a harsh price. Since there was no Thagnor militia, the farmers and fisherman had mostly fought with pitchforks, scythes, half-pikes, farmer’s bills and crossbows. The Army had fought back with swords and halberds, not wanting to raise the City Watch with musket fire.

  Phrames biggest obstacle had been keeping battle-crazed Hostigi soldiers from raping and looting the Thagnori peasants. After losing the biggest battle of their life and being thrust out of their homes, the Hostigi Army wanted someone on whom to take out their fear, shame and anger on. Phrames’ job had been to convince them that it was best held in reserve for the coming battle with the Grand Host, who would deserve every atrocity the men could conjure.

  “After fourteen winters of Prince Varrack’s rule, these poor churls deserve a chance to prosper under Hostigi rule,” he had told them. “And, I mean to give them that opportunity. Any man jack of you who finds that distasteful, can leave now and return to Hostigos!”That had shut up the quibblers.

  It’s good policy, too, he thought. Rylla and some of the older nobles, like Prince Sarrask, Pheblon and Chartiphon, thought that leniency was equal to weakness. Fortunately, Kalvan believed otherwise; so far events had proven his wisdom. Certainly, the Thagnori villagers,
for the most part, had quickly set down their weapons and asked for quarter. Of course, it hadn’t hurt that he had nine thousand soldiers at hand. Still, one day these crofters and fishermen would be subjects of Greater Hostigos, as Rylla liked to call it.

  Phrames only hoped that the Thagnori soldiers were as sensible as the farmers had proven to be. Kalvan planned to offer all those who surrendered and were willing to swear fealty to Hostigos and join the royal army a five gold crown signing bonus. Plus, pay some of their back wages. Since many of these soldiers hadn’t been paid since the beginning of last fall, he suspected there would be a lot of volunteers. In lieu of pay, many of them had become accustomed to stealing victuals and goods from the farmers and villagers; they would have to be taught that practice was at an end. After they hanged the first handful or two, the others would learn that it was best to obey their Great King in all ways.

  One of his Beshtans, Captain Jephros, said, “The First Battery’s guns are primed and loaded, Captain-General.”

  “Hold fire until we hear the ship’s guns.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Our Great King wants us to coordinate our attack with the naval attack on the Thagnor Fleet. Colonel Tortha of the Militia will be starting an uprising inside the city after our guns open fire. It would be far easier just to destroy the Army of Thagnor, but Kalvan wants us to spare them for the fight against Styphon’s House. We are to take as many prisoners as we can. The conquest of Thagnor isn’t going to win us any friends in the Upper Middle Kingdoms. The Great King says we’ll be lucky if every princedom and kingdom within five hundred marches doesn’t declare war on Hostigos.”

  “Not if we beat them first, sir!”

  Phrames laughed. “That was Queen Rylla’s advice. It’s one thing to conquer them all; it’s another to hold their loyalty and risk having them change sides every time we move the army. King Kalvan believes our best strategy is to take a formidable stronghold and use that as our base of operations. Thagnor will give us such a place, a stronghold in which to rebuild our munitions mills, arsenals, foundries, stills and factories, and the University of Hostigos. Thagnor also has the advantage of being the choke point between two major Seas, which will allow us to control local trade and keep our enemies at bay. Any princedom that opposes us, we will conquer and add to our new Kingdom. The others will quickly see the folly of allying against us.”

  Jephros looked puzzled. “What happens when Styphon’s Grand Host enters the mix?”

  “It will force everyone in the Middle Kingdoms to take one side or the other. If we have done a good job in Thagnor, that is, if we haven’t abused our new subjects and have provided new prosperity and jobs, honored our treaties and kept our shirts clean; then, by Dralm, the other princedoms may decide that we are preferable to Styphon’s devils. Especially if Investigator Roxthar travels with the Grand Host.”

  In the distance there was a sudden brilliance of a signal rocket.

  “The battle has begun. Give the order!”

  Jephros rode off, shouting “Fire!”

  The batteries’ guns sounded like rolling thunder and for a few moments Phrames was temporarily deaf. The stone watchtower fell apart, stones and men flying every which way. A couple of Thagnori heads rose above the parapets but quickly went down when the riflemen opened fire. The second volley took down the watchtower base and a good portion of the City Wall with it. There was no mortar between the joints, making the wall especially vulnerable to massed gunfire. Great King Kalvan would change this, put good mortar between the stone, build strong bastions and earthworks and make the walls two to three times their present thickness.

  Jephros returned. “Shall I give the order to advance?”

  “Not yet, Captain. I want to smash a big enough hole to march twenty men abreast. That will give the Thagnori something to quake in their boots over!”

  II

  This part of Hostigos is as bare of life as the moon, Sirna thought to herself as the spring-less carriage bounced over the dirt path that passed for a road in eastern Hostigos. Now that the Great King’s Highway was behind them she really missed it. Outside the carriage, there was nothing but burned fields, collapsed barns and an occasional sun-bleached skeleton of a man or cow.

  So this is what Kalvan means by total war. The small towns and villages were all in ruins, many of the buildings torn to the ground. It would be a long time, without massive outside investment, before this blasted landscape was brought back to life--if ever. Even the forests were mostly burned or destroyed, their blackened limbs stretching skeletally towards the sky. The last living things she’d seen had been a horse party of white-robed Investigators with a squad of Styphon’s Own Guard. What are we going to find when we get into Sashta and Beshta?

  Sirna was sharing the coach with Queen Lavena, who hadn’t said more than a few words the entire journey. Lavena appeared as cold as ice; it was hard to believe that she was even distantly related to Rylla. True, she was the spitting image of Rylla, but she had none of Rylla’s warmth. When Princess Nicla of Nyklos had complained of stomach pains at the last stop, the Queen had dumped her and her daughters at the partially rebuilt way station to wait for the next coach to Harphax City. They might be stranded there for half a moon or more with only the station attendants and a few guards for company.

  All Sirna knew was that she felt completely isolated and far away from Phidestros’ arms and her friends among the Iron Band. It was popular knowledge in Hostigos Town that she was Phidestros’ mistress and she wondered if that was why Great King Lysandros had ordered her to remain behind and escort his wife to Harphax City. Is this Lysandros’ way of punishing the Prince for all his success on the battlefield, or is it because there was no one else to chaperone his new Great Queen back to Harphax City? It was a long journey over a barren wasteland and the new Queen had no friends either in Hostigos Town or in Harphax City.

  Phidestros had left with his army to return to Greater Beshta a half moon before the Grand Host had departed along the Nyklos Trail to follow King Kalvan and his refugees. They had enjoyed a bittersweet parting, then she had been forced to wait patiently at Prince Sthentros’ palace until Queen Lavena finally made her leave-taking from her father. The Prince hadn’t wanted his daughter to depart, since he had few subjects to rule over and no one in Hostigos he trusted. Two of the men he’d brought with him from Harphax City had already left by coach.

  No promises had been made between her and Phidestros; she wasn’t sure what her position would be in the Prince’s Court once they arrived in Besh Town. Sirna did know one thing; she wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s permanent paramour, even a man as attractive and virile as Phidestros. He could put that in his pipe and choke on it if that’s what he thought the future held.

  The carriage dropped into a particularly deep pothole and the Great Queen went “oomph.”

  “Are you all right, Your Majesty?” Sirna asked.

  “I’ve survived worse,” Lavena said. “The journey my father and I made out of Hos-Hostigos last winter makes this look like a stroll through the palace grounds. It’s the baby I’m worried about.”

  “Baby!” Sirna interjected before she realized that it might not be a proper topic for conversation.

  “Yes, I’m with child.”

  “So soon? You were only married two moons ago.”

  Lavena nodded. “Lysandros didn’t want to leave me until I was sure. That way if he is killed in battle there will be an heir to the Iron Throne. Besides, this is my third time with child.”

  “I thought you were childless.”

  “I am. I thought Grefftscharrers were sophisticated? Here we have the Priestesses of Yirtta to handle such things.”

  “Of course, we have our Mothers of Freya to take care of indiscretions in Greffa.”

  Lavena sighed heavily.

  “Do you miss him?” Sirna asked, although she couldn’t imagine the Queen replying in the positive.

  She nodded. “A great deal. We�
��re a lot alike. I didn’t expect a love match when my father sold me into this marriage in exchange for a title. Like myself, Lysandros has always been alone. He was born when his mother was gray and over forty winters. She died during Lysandros’ childbirth, which he believes turned his father and brother against him. His father always doted on Lysandros’ older brother, Kaiphranos. The old king was another musician, like Kaiphranos, only he played the lyre instead of the flute. The two often spent entire evenings playing music together, while Lysandros was left alone. When King Kaiphranos had two sons, Lysandros was completely ignored, which is why he left Harphax to join the Free Companions at such a young age. He was desperate to make a name for himself and rose quite high, to the rank of Captain-General in the marches of Hos-Ktemnos.

  “But when Lysandros returned to Harphax City, before the Usurper Kalvan arrived, it was as if he’d never left. No one in the Royal Family recognized his accomplishments; if anything, they belittled them. Most of his family were like Kalvan’s University folk, strange and full of odd ideas. He told me he always felt like an outsider at home.”

  “And I would guess you felt the same way, since Rylla always got everyone’s attention and approval.”

  Lavena nodded. “Prince Ptosphes never liked my father. Princess Demia thought herself better than my mother, or so it appeared to me. Demia and my father were distant cousins; she could do no wrong in his eyes. He would have married her himself, if she would have had him. I know; I’ve heard him say such. However, Demia wanted to be a Princess and married Ptosphes instead. I can’t say as I blame her.”

  “Half the nobles in Hostigos must have been in love with Demia,” Sirna said. “I know that Chartiphon and Xentos can’t mention her name without turning red.”

  “Demia was the spitting image of Queen Rylla. But more devious and ambitious.”

  Much like you, thought Sirna, keeping her thoughts to herself. Lavena must really be lonely, though, to open up like this to someone she barely knows. And, afraid too, of the winter ahead. In Harphax City, Lavena would be pregnant and alone while she waited anxiously for a husband who might be killed in battle. It couldn’t be easy for her.